A Single Grain
by mimeus
Summary: Crosspost from AO3. He didn't fight for Dalmasca, or honour, or even freedom. Reks fought for his brother and the hope that defeating Vayne would reunite his broken family. UA where Reks lives and loses Vaan much earlier than story permits. Rasler/Reks, others
1. Prologue Part 1- Losses

_Editted to put up warnings and to put up Break lines_

Warnings: UA(Universe Altered), disregard for the manga completely, Rasler lives, minor character OCs, homosexual relationships, slavery, forced sex change, dubious consent, underage, headcanon galore, implied incest, spoilers for the game, Changes to game plot.

Pairings: Reks/Rasler, Basch/Vossler, Balthier/Vaan, Vayne/Vaan, Penelo/Fran, one-sided Larsa/Penelo, past blink-and-you-miss Basch/Gabranth

**Single Grain: Prologue 1**

_Rabanastre, Year 701 Old Valendian_

Reks is too young to be worried about these sorts of things, to be worried about becoming an orphan; he's 14, just beginning to become comfortable in his apprenticeship. He sits in the main room, staring at the trinkets his parents have brought from their trade routes; he sits and stares numbly while his parents cough and groan upstairs.

The healer he called clears his throat to get Reks' attention. "You should probably leave as well," he states, nodding towards Vaan. "You don't want you or your brother to catch it either right?"

"We can't abandon our parents!" Vaan shouts angrily. He's only 12, too young to understand that the world isn't just black and white. Too young to understand that noble thoughts can sometimes mean nothing.

"Is there no cure?" Reks cuts in before Vaan can say something stupid. "It's not like we're especially poor; if there is something that can be done, please tell us."

The healer's brows furrow. "There really is no known cure at the moment."

But Reks has seen these eyes before, eyes of a man with a secret; he has seen them in the caravaners his father is always bargaining with.

"Money is no object," Reks says with finality, clamping his hand down on his brother's shoulder to silence him.

The healer raises a brow before shrugging his shoulders. "This is not something the medical association has accepted," he says in a hushed tone. "But judging by how none of the royals have gotten sick yet, I think that they've got the right idea."

"What is it?" Reks hisses, his grey eyes flashing.

The healer leans in close. "They say the Nu-Mou of Nabradia can create a special tonic that can heal all ailments. It is said that it can bring even a person on the brink of death back to full health."

With those words, the healer leaves, hurrying to his next appointment. Reks remains frozen in his seat, lost in thought, while Vaan flutters around him in excitement.

"That means we can help mum and dad, right?" Vaan says with a smile. "We just need to get to Nabradia!"

Reks hugs his brother tightly, petting the downy blond hair. "Yes," Reks says, trying to sound strong. "Yes, we can save them."

He doesn't tell Vaan that all airship activity within Dalmasca is frozen, and that Rabanastre is in a state of lockdown to prevent the spread of the disease. He doesn't mention that it takes a week to get to Nabradia by chocobo and by then, their parents could already be dead. He doesn't say that buying an elixir will cost more than what they have and that it's a fool's dream to attempt this. He doesn't mention any of this, and opts instead to hold his brother tight.

Because this is the first time since their parents' collapse that Vaan has smiled and Reks will be damned before he destroys the fragile hope that shines in his eyes.

* * *

Reks checks his parents into the hospital for the month; it's expensive, since it costs extra to keep a plague patient. It'll take 2 weeks to get to Nabudis and back, and he plans on searching for the Nu-Mou for only a week; they'll be back before the hospital can kick his parents to the curb. With that done, he goes and sells everything; the ottoman, the decorated rugs, the ornaments, the silks, the fabrics, the house. He fetches a good price for their home, for it is in the centre of the city with easy access to the shops.

The only thing he keeps is a blue jewelled pin in the shape of a sea shell; it is the symbol of their family, and the one thing he cannot part with.

Even with everything gone, Reks is sure that the gil is barely enough for one elixir. But, he soldiers on because this is truly their family's last and only hope.

To escape the city, he travels to Lowtown for information. Despite his mother's complaints about the less than respectable residents living there, Reks knows that the people of Lowtown are the best at smuggling in and out of Rabanastre. He spends the day down there, one hand holding tight to his brother and the other on their entire fortune. Reks hears the hushed words of guard formations, of their schedules, of who would look the other way with enough bribing.

He sits and listens and stays as unassuming as possible, filing every tidbit of information away.

* * *

They leave the city at sunrise, when the troops are out with morning training in the Estersands and there are significantly less guards at the South gates of the city. Vaan sways drowsily behind him, having been unable to sleep very well on the cold ground of Lowtown; Reks didn't get any sleep, fretting about their plan, and worrying about robbers the entire night. They manage to get to the gates without any incident, and the teleportation crystal is also thankfully void of guards.

Pulling out an orange teleportation stone, Reks grips Vaan's hand and closes his eyes. He imagines the Mosphoran Highwaste, with its bubbling wells and high cliffs; he imagines the bulbous balloon-like plants that were sturdy enough for him to walk on, had made him feel like he was walking on the wind. He's only been there once, but it had been his first trip out of the city and he remembers all the details.

Reks feels the stone melt into the crystal and the rush of magic as it pulls him and his brother into the Rabanastre crystal and spits him out the Mosphoran crystal.

"Wow," Vaan gasps after getting his bearing back. He grips his satchel tightly, his blue eyes wide. "This place is amazing."

Reks can't help but smile, remembering how amazed he was at the Mosphoran camp when he first saw it. He frowns when he looks at it now though; the camp is devoid of caravaners since they have all fled the plague-ridden regions.

"It is, isn't it?" he asks, shouldering his bag as well. "We can look around later, though. We need to go find that wild chocobo."

Reks' original plan had been to go to the South exit and rent a chocobo, but soon realized that there were currently no chocobos for rent in Rabanastre. Teleporting to Mosphoran Highwaste was a better idea anyways; it'd save them gil and shorten their trip.

It takes them about 30 minutes to find the small group of chocobos, and another 10 to coax one of them to feed from the gyashi green in his hand and allow itself to be mounted. Overall though, it takes less time and effort then Reks thought and he is relieved.

* * *

Nabudis is beautiful, in a way that is completely different from Rabanastre. Dalmasca is a desert country, and Rabanastre's beauty lies in the golden sands that surround it and the rare glimpses of sparkling water that refreshes its people. Nabradia is situated by a large river and its capital, Nabudis, is completely surrounded by water; it is shimmering blue mingled with so much foliage that Reks feels like he is in a jungle than a city.

Nabudis is also much livelier than Rabanastre at the moment, as it hasn't been hit with the plague and people have no worries about catching a disease.

"Where should we start?" Vaan asks at last, shifting from foot to foot in the strange new place.

Reks combs through his silver hair, sighing. "I think we should ask about the Nu Mou clan's location," he replies. "I don't want to waste the gil on something that's defective. We should go straight to the source."

They start at the sundries shop, and the moogle that owns the place tells them a Nu-Mou can be found at one of the magic stores on the other side of the city. The trek through Nabudis is long but pleasant; the sun doesn't glare down at them as the abundance of greenery creates plenty of shade.

"It's really beautiful here," Vaan says with awe while passing the Royal Palace. A moment later, he grins up cheekily at Reks. "But our castle's nicer."

Reks chuckles in reply. It's nice here, joking with Vaan; it's as though he and his brother are simply on a vacation than on a mission to save their parents' lives.

They stop to have a light lunch and finally find the magic shop an hour after their meal. The shop is run by Khala, an old Nu-Mou with mottled, greying fur; it is smaller than the other magic shops, but it is more inviting, homey even.

"How can I help you children?" Khala asks with a smile.

"Do you know where we can get elixirs?" Reks says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"For curing the Desert plague!" Vaan adds with a wave of his hand.

The old Nu-Mou looks forlorn, his lips drawn tight. "I cannot help you, children."

"Please, sir, we've come all this way," Reks murmurs, grabbing the furry arm. "It wasn't easy getting here from Rabanastre. Can't you at least hear what we have to say?"

Khala sighs and closes the shop early, and directs them to the small office in the back. Reks explains their parents' plight, the meeting with the healer, their travels through the Highwaste and the Salika Woods. More than himself, it is Vaan's little exclamations that seem to sway Khala; he's always had this ability, to inspire, to give hope when everything seems bleak.

By the end of their story, Khala sits stony-faced and Reks tries to will his face blank while Vaan finishes the last of the biscuits the shop keeper brought out.

"Can the elixir actually heal the plague?" Reks asks at last, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over them.

"Of course. The elixir can cure all ailments," Khala answers calmly. "But, to do it in the timeframe you're thinking of will be impossible. It takes 6 months to brew."

"Six months!" Vaan cries out, his blue eyes widened in shock. "But that'll be too late."

"Not only that," the Nu-Mou continues. "The ingredients are hard to acquire… Some even forbidden… It may take years to collect all that is needed to make the item."

"Don't you have any on hand?" Vaan asks, his cerulean eyes bright. "This is a magic shop, right?"

Khala shakes his head, long ears flapping along. "Perhaps, hmm… Maybe," he mutters to himself, leaving his seat to pull out a large scroll from the bookshelf. Reks clears the table as Khala opens the scroll and places on the wooden surface; it is simply a map of Nabradia's borders. Then Khala mutters a spell, waving his fur covered hands in a complex pattern and Vaan gasps and claps his hand in delight as three small points on the map lights up in a pale golden light.

"These are the locations of villages in which my kin live in," Khala says. "My brethren may be able to help you."

Reks rubs his temples, biting his lips in thought. "It'll take too long for us to get to all these places by foot," he says with a sigh. The endeavour was doomed from the beginning but Reks had been drawn in by Vaan's enthusiasm and had almost begun to hope. "Vaan, there's nothing we can do."

"But we have to!" he cries out, rubbing at his runny nose. "We came all this way, Reks!"

"Vaan, look at this map! We can't get there and get back home in time!" Reks tries to explain, waving at the map, but his brother sticks out his lips and faces Khala.

"We can use the teleportation stone to get back home!" Vaan yells, his voice cracking at the volume. "Then we can spend more time looking!"

Reks' composure breaks. "Do you know how expensive those things are? How risky it is?! We can't afford to use the stone twice!" he yells back, the frustration and anger he's felt the whole time exploding. "You don't understand anything, Vaan! Don't you get that we left the city illegally?! We can't risk getting caught using the teleportation stone back and even if we could, we don't have the gil for it!"

Khala, who has stayed quiet until now, puts one soft hand on his shoulder and the other on Vaan's. "Now, now," he says with finality, ensuring to stop the argument. "There is no point in fighting about this."

The old Nu-Mou meets Vaan's eyes. "Vaan, your brother is right, you cannot make this journey on foot and still return to Rabanastre in time," he says to the blond before turning to Reks. "But Reks, Vaan is also right. It is too early to give up hope; you are still young, and should have a bit more optimism in you."

"What do you suggest we do?" Reks asks, slouching into his seat. The yelling drained the last of his energy. He wraps his arms around Vaan, and his younger brother steps closer. "I'm sorry, Vaan. I didn't mean to take out my anger at you."

Vaan simply nods in reply, burrowing his face deeper into Rek's hug.

Khala watches with a fond smile before passing the map to Reks. "Young Reks," he says, digging out a small piece of parchment from his desk side drawer. He writes something in a rough hand and passes the paper to him as well. "At the Nabudis Aerodome, ask for Brisin. Give him the small parchment and the map. He is a friend and will take you to my brethren. Might even give you a ride back to Rabanastre."

Reks ignores Vaan's cry of delight, gripping the parchments and furrowing his brows at the Nu-Mou. "But why go so far to help us?" Reks asks because he can't understand. Khala has no reason to do this for them; none at all.

Khala furry face shifts as his eyes droop and his lips quirk into a smile. "The Nu-Mou are not easily found in the cities, did you know?" he starts to say, meandering past his desk to rummage through his bookshelf again. "You are not the first to have asked me for an elixir, or for the location of our homes."

"Is it a secret?" Reks asks. He's never known that the Nu-Mou guarded their villages like some other races did.

Khala shakes his head. "Our villages are not secret, but they are not well known either," he answers. "But I digress. The point is, you are not the first to ask, but you are the first that did so with such earnest and pure intentions."

Khala smiles at them again, the grey fur of his face twitching. "The others, when they came, only wanted them for profit," the Nu-Mou explains. "They came with a desire to take advantage of another's plight, and I could not allow it. But you, you came out of the love in your heart, and I'm not so jaded in my years that I cannot see this," Khala looks away, his eyes looking far into the past. The old shopkeeper wraps something deftly and rolls it in his hands.

His old eyes clears and he ushers them out. "Quickly, quickly!" he exclaims, pushing them out of his shop. "You must get moving before you miss Brisin! He's set to leave by sunset!"

Reks feels the Nu-Mou push something into his pocket but cannot complain as Khala kicks them out with surprising strength, back into the bustling street.

It is only when they are on their way to the Aerodome, with Vaan excitedly chattering about flying on an actual airship, that Reks gets a chance to look at what Khala gave him.

It is a package wrapped in papyrus that doubled as a wrapping and a letter. Reks laughs, cutting Vaan's words off with a start.

_Sometimes, the risks are worth taking. Besides, having a back-up plan is never a bad idea._ The note says and Reks cannot help laughing because if he doesn't, he will start crying.

His whole country had done nothing for him and yet here was a perfect stranger helping him.

He grips the teleportation stone as he reassures Vaan that he is perfectly fine and that Khala didn't sneak a "laughing spell" in there.

* * *

The Nabudis Aerodome is designed similarly to the Rabanastre Aerodome, though the floor of the Nabudis Aerodome is decorated with frosted tumbled glass. The green and blue pieces litter between the black tiles like stars and Reks takes a moment to admire the creativity of reusing broken glass before going to the private airship stall.

"How can I help you?" the teller asks with a smile, though Reks can tell she is perplexed to why two that don't look wealthy enough to afford a ship is here.

"I'm looking for Brisin," Reks replies, holding Vaan's wrist so he won't run off. Vaan struggles for only a moment before huffing. "I have a message from Khala for him."

The woman nods and taps on her screen. "Hmm, looks like he's still here," she says with a nod. "Just go to hanger 9 and the Shatter will be docked there."

Reks thanks her and makes his way to hanger 9, still holding Vaan tightly.

"Do you think he'll let me drive it?" Vaan asks excitedly.

Reks stifles a laugh before raising a brow at his brother. "If he does," Reks comments. "I'll have to seriously consider his sanity."

"Hey!" Vaan says before punching Reks' shoulder. "I could so fly the ship."

Reks doesn't bother replying except with a scoff, as they've already arrived at the ship hanger. The Shatter is a small, narrow thing, made more for speed than for cargo. It looks like a flying deathtrap.

"Careful, don't look too hard or I'll start thinking you want to steal her," a deep voice snaps Reks out of his thoughts. The man has pale skin with long red hair, tied in a simple braid; he doesn't look old, perhaps in his late 20s, though everyone knows Reks is the worst at guessing people's ages. He's never seen a person with red hair before, though his father told him that titian hair was commonly found in the Northern continent of Valendia, particularly where the former republic of Landis once stood.

"Are you Brisin?" Reks asks.

"Aye, that's me," the man replies. "And who-"

Vaan cuts Brisin off before he can question Reks. "Your ship is awesome!" he shouts, blue eyes wide. "How fast does it go? Can we go for a ride? How long have you had it? Is it hard to fly? What-"

"Oi, lad, one question at a time!" Brisin says with a laugh. "And before I answer all that, I need to know, who are you?"

"I'm Reks, this is my brother, Vaan," Reks says. "Khala sent us."

He pulls out the parchment Khala gave him and passes it. Brisin skims it silently, his green eyes scanning the paper carefully, his fingers rubbing the ink for any forgery.

Once he's satisfied, Brisin tucks the paper into his shirt pocket before chuckling at Reks. "I don't know what you did, but you sure got Khala on your side," he says as he tilts his head towards the Shatter. "Well, come on then. Get inside and we'll talk. I have a pretty tight schedule to keep."

* * *

Reks can't help but be thankful for Vaan's overwhelming excitement. It distracts Brisin from questioning him and Reks doesn't know how much Khala told the skyship owner; he doesn't want to reveal too much. Vaan's never ending excitement for the skyship also helps him forget his hate for flying.

Reks cannot stand flying. Hates the motion, hates the noise of the engine, hates it. He gets air-sick easily, so he's always preferred to travel by chocobo or teleportation stones during his apprenticeship. Regardless, Vaan's voice distracts him enough that he can pretend that he isn't thousands of feet high in the air in a metal monstrosity.

Brisin is friendly and willing to answer all of Vaan's questions, letting his brother sit next to him in the co-pilot seat. The seat is normally empty, since he doesn't need a co-pilot for such a tiny skyship. Reks is content to let them be, sitting on the small couch behind the pilot's seat. But once Vaan gets drowsy and leaves for the guest room Brisin has provided, they are left in a tense silence.

"So," Brisin says after clicking the Shatter's auto-pilot and sliding into the seat across from him. "Why the sudden trip to the Nu-Mou's villages?"

Reks narrows his eyes at the man. "Didn't Khala tell you in his message?"

"Naw," Brisin replies flippantly. "All that old dog said was I should take you to the villages and he'll give me a discount on the upgrade spell for my ship."

"I guess you don't need to know then," Reks says with finality. Brisin is probably trust-worthy but he doesn't want to reveal anything in case the man is someone that wants to profit from the elixirs.

Brisin raises a brow but shrugs in reply. "Well, whatever. It's not important."

* * *

The village is covered in thick mist, so Brisin has to land the Shatter a ways away and they have to spend a day walking through the marshes to get there.

The Nu-mou are kind but more interested in scholarly pursuits than at the visitors in their village. After much prodding, one of the younger Nu-Mou leads them to the apothecary.

Luckily they have elixirs.

Unluckily, they are frightfully expensive.

The shop owner explains that the ingredients that go into making elixirs, including such rare items as ambrosias, high arcanas and other such items Reks has only heard whispers of, are something the price of the elixir takes into account.

"But for Khala's friends…. I'll give one for half price," the shop keeper says.

Thanks to that, Reks doesn't have to pay with every last gil they own, though it comes close.

* * *

Brisin offers them a ride back to Rabanastre. Reks says no, Vaan says yes.

Which is why Reks ends up riding that monstrosity again.

It is when Vaan has turned in for the night that Brisin turns on the Shatter's auto-pilot and slides into the seat across from him.

"So, needed the elixirs for family," Brisin comments, tilting his head and regarding Reks with raised brows. "Don't know why you kept it so hush-hush for."

In hindsight, Reks doesn't know why he didn't tell Brisin either, so he settles for a nonchalant look. "Just didn't know if you were trustworthy or not."

The redhead laughs in response. "And, what's the verdict?"

Reks shrugs. "You're alright."

Brisin laughs again before nodding in approval. "That's good," he says. "It's never a good idea to let someone too close to you."

They don't speak for the rest of the journey, other than vague pleasantries, but they've come to an understanding, and that is good enough.

* * *

They land near the edge of the Giza plains, and Brisin ruffles Vaan's hair and gives a nod to Reks before leaving. Reks had specifically asked to be dropped off at Giza plains, so they could enter into Lowtown via the transport gate.

The walk is pleasant, because the plains, while still in wet season, isn't pouring torrents of rain upon them. So, the weather is not too hot but not disgustingly humid either.

They get home with hope in their hearts and a smile on their faces. Reks jokes about Vaan apprenticing under Brisin, who genuinely gets excited and promptly "plans" for his apprenticeship.

It is obvious in the time they've been gone, a scant three weeks, that the plague has become less of a problem, or the citizens have become tired of fearing it. The gates are open and the shops are busier, though still not as it should be.

Everything is great until they get to the hospital.

Then the world slips between Reks' fingers.

* * *

The good thing about Vaan is that despite being naïve and outspoken most of the time, he knows when to be silent.

Or maybe it is the shock that stills his younger brother. Reks can barely hear anything the healer is saying as she places a heavy urn in his hands.

All that planning, all that work, and in the end, nothing changed.

They are alone; alone and desperate in a city that has no love for them anymore.

Reks rents a small room in the outskirts of the city with the small amount he had leftover from their purchase. It's still better than lowtown but it's near the Aerodorm, so there is lots of noise. Their "home" has nothing but secondhand furniture Reks managed to wrangle, and some small trinkets that never got sold.

He gets a job with one of his father's former partners. While Reks isn't a fully fledge trader/merchant, his family had been quite popular so he's able to get employment despite his young age. It's hard work, and he gets paid less for doing it, but the gil keeps them fed, even if they have to go without some of the luxuries they had before.

There isn't enough money to send Vaan in for his apprenticeship but Moniq, a young Bangaa jeweller, allows Vaan to shadow her in her shop in return for information from Reks regarding magicite trade. She lost a brother in the plague and seems to warm up to Vaan, even showing him several techniques to improve the quality of a gem.

Their life is not great, but Reks makes sure that Vaan never goes hungry and that they have a place to sleep at night.

It's all he can do at this point.

* * *

It is three months after their parents' death when Vaan brings up the ashes. Until then it had been hidden in the corner of their apartment, inside a box.

"We should do something," Vaan says, fiddling with a thin wire of silver. It had been leftover from Moniq's last project and she gave it to Vaan to practice wire setting on. "With the ashes, I mean."

Reks looks up from the document he had been reading, the table he's sitting at littered with bills and payments. Balancing finances is one of the hardest things he's needed to learn. He doesn't say anything, simply giving Vaan his best disapproving face.

"Moniq says that when her brother died, she went up to Bur-Omisace to release his ashes," Vaan continues when Reks says nothing. "We should go… It's not fair to leave them locked up like that…"

Reks taps the table with his hand. "Do you know how much it costs to go up there? We can't afford that," he mutters, his grey eyes dark. "Besides, I can't take any time off."

"It takes 5 days," Vaan argues, crossing his arms. "They'd be willing to let you go with pay, especially for something like this. We could afford to go to Nabudis, why can't we go to Mount Bur-Omisace?"

Reks sighs. "Vaan, this is completely different," he explains. "To go to Nabudis, we just had to follow the trade routes that were protected by the country. The road to Bur-Omisace has no such protection. We'd have to hire protection, get supplies. We don't have the gil for that."

"What about the Elixirs? We could sell one of them," Vaan says. "It's not like we're doing anything with them."

The elixirs have also been hidden with the urn. It hurts Reks to look at them, to be reminded of the hope he once had. The hope he lost as quickly as it came.

Vaan bounds over, placing a thin hand on Rek's arm. "Reks, please. This is not good for us, for you, to hold on to these memories," Vaan speaks softly, as though speaking to a wolf. Young he may be, but Vaan understands the hearts of people as though he is reading a simple book. "We've been surviving but you haven't really lived. We need to let mom and dad go, so we can start living again."

When he doesn't reply, Vaan just sighs and moves to his bed area. "Just… think about what I said, ok?" he says before slipping behind the curtained partition to his sleeping area.

Reks gets neither work nor any sleep that night, thinking about what it means to be alive, what it means to be left behind.

* * *

Once his mind is made up, it's surprising how easily Reks' travel plan comes together.

Moniq agrees to look after their small apartment while they are gone. She even gifts them two thick cloaks for the travel up Paramina Rift. She shares private words with Vaan, and judging by her smile, it seems she's congratulating Vaan for finally convincing him.

Reks' employer obviously lets him leave for Bur-Omisace when he learns of their plans.

"It's good. To release their ashes up there," the robust hume says. His employer is a merchant that has forgotten what it's like to travel for wares, successful enough to use mediators to bring him his products. "For your father, bless his soul, I'll still pay your wages as if you had worked for the days you missed."

Hadir is a hume that had been a close trader with his father; he is a man that lives a nomadic lifestyle with several other members in his tight-knit group. He agrees to lead his men to Mount Bur-Omisace and escort them back for an elixir.

Reks doesn't ask why he'd need the elixir and Hadir does not mention it, and they travel by chocobo through the Southern continent. It's ironic; Reks has traveled further this one year than he has any other years.

His parents' ashes lay heavily in his pack, the urn wrapped up in layers of cloth to prevent it from shattering. Vaan's pack is also strangely heavy, though his brother will not show him what's inside.

Despite the reason for their journey, Vaan is a bright ray in their group. He manages to keep their companions laughing and in good cheer, even through the freezing weathers of Paramina Rift.

Time flies, and in a blink it seems, they have reached the sacred land, Mount Bur-Omisace.

Hadir squeezes his shoulder and tells him that he and his men will wait down with the chocobos for two days, and two days only. If they wait to leave any later than that, the weather will not permit travel.

With a nod, Reks shoulders his bag, grips his brother's hand and makes his way to the peak.

* * *

Mount Bur-Omisace is surprisingly busy, with worshippers meandering through the mountain. It's strange; Rek had thought the mountain would be more solemn but it is reminiscent of the bazaar at Rabanastre, filled with vendors selling relics and bustling with pilgrims talking excitedly as they pass holy sites.

Vaan keeps a firm hold on his cloak, ensuring that they don't get separated while Reks scouts around for a site to release the ashes.

"How about there?" Vaan asks, pointing to the top of a stone face. The ancient rock is vaguely in the shape of a dragon's snout, weathered naturally over the course of history. "Even if we can't release the ashes, we'll still be able to see further out from there."

Reks scans the area and finds a small staircase that looks to lead to the top of the stone dragon's head. "Looks good," he replies and they beginning the ascent to the top.

On top of the cliff, Reks finds a good place to release his parents. One side faces the masses and that is absolutely no good, but the opposite side gives them the view of the Paramina Rift and even further, out to the edge of the Golmore Jungle.

They are lucky that the winds are blowing towards the rift. The ash spreads far across the icy plains, disappearing amongst the pale snow.

"Reks," Vaan says, pulling at his sleeve. He pulls out two cupped plants from his pack. Reks can see why his pack was so heavy now; the Galbana lilies have been kept alive by several sunstones that gave the plant bursts of sunlight even through the freezing temperature.

"Why'd you bring that?" Reks asks, tilting his head. He rubs one of the silky petals in his hand; Galbana Lilies are his favourite flowers, ever since he found a patch of them in the Westersands as a child.

Vaan looks down, suddenly shy. "I thought…I thought we'd plant them here," he replies, staring past Reks. "So even if the ashes are gone, we'd be able to come back and remember."

Reks' eyes soften in response. "That's a great idea," he says, sliding into a crouch and putting a hand on the ground. The soil is thin, and he can feel the rough stone beneath it. But Galbana Lilies are known their ability to survive in harsh environments and he is confident that they will flourish here, in the memory of his parents.

They crouch side by side and each plant a small Galbana Lily; the orange petals stand out brightly against the grey background.

"Do you think we can come back every year?" Vaan asks, his eyes bright with hope. "It could be our tradition! Coming to plant a Galbana lily each year?"

Reks says yes, because, like always, he can't help but try to nurture the small hope in his brother's eyes.

* * *

Reks loses him. He searches desperately for Vaan but the crowd is surrounding him too tightly for him to get a good look.

It was only for a moment; Reks had gone to get food and Vaan opted to stay because his feet were tired. He had told Vaan to stay seated by the fountain, why couldn't his brother ever listen?

Reks couldn't lose his brother; they are alone now, with only each other for family. He thinks his soul will completely shatter if he were to lose Vaan.

He flitters from group to group, asking if anyone's seen a young blond boy and despairing as each inquiry gets him nowhere.

Finally, _finally_, a young hume acolyte tells him that he saw such a child by the Northern septum, watching the floating lands with delight. Reks thanks him profusely before running off.

Vaan is _so _dead when Reks gets to him.

* * *

Reks freezes when he gets to the Northern septum and he can't help but tremble in fear. There is someone sitting next to Vaan, someone with dark hair and the aristocratic features of an Archadian.

_Vayne Solidor_.

Normally Dalmascans would never bother with political scandals of other nations but most everyone has heard of Vayne Solidor. Of his cold eyes and dark hair. Of his bloodlust. Of his heartless ways.

Of how he _killed_ his own brothers for power.

Reks wants to run up to Vaan and shake him, wants to ask just what he's thinking talking to someone as dangerous as a Solidor. He wants to grab Vaan and flee, hide him from the cold gaze of the Archadian prince.

But Reks cannot do any of this; he cannot show fear.

So, he straightens his back and stiffly walks over to the two of them…No, three of them; he didn't even notice the Judge until now.

"I thought I told you to wait by the fountain, _little brother_," Reks says, emphasizing the last words. Vaan furrows his brows but nods. It is a signal, to not reveal his name or anything personal; Reks doesn't know how long Vayne's been there but the less he knows the better.

Vaan at least has the decency to look sheepish. "I got distracted! This Seeq told me that there were floating continents like Bhujerba here!" Vaan says, Vayne quirks his lips upwards as though he's amused and Reks wants to growl at the Archadian to leave.

"They are a much too small to house inhabitants," Vayne replies with an indulgent smile at Vaan. He has a calming voice, a reassuring voice but Reks can't help but feel even more fearful for it. Vayne Solidor wears his masks well, a little too well. "They are pieces of a former continent, one much like Bhujerba."

"What happen to it?" Vaan asks before Reks can politely make the man leave. Reks will most definitely need to speak to his brother about strangers.

"The magic keeping the land afloat lost power and it simply fell," Vayne answers. "Tis the fate of many lands."

"You know a lot," Vaan says, kicking his legs back and forth. Reks pleads with his eyes to keep quiet but Vaan doesn't notice.

"We need to leave," Reks cuts in before this strange conversation can go on any longer. "Our group is waiting for us."

"But R-_big brother_, I thought he said we were leaving tomorrow?" Vaan says with a frown. "

Reks shakes his head and wraps his hand around Vaan's thin wrist. "He changed his mind. Now, let's go."

"You are welcome to travel with myself and my retinue," Vayne offers. "It seems such a shame to make him leave when he's still enjoying the sights."

"No thank you," Reks says stiffly, pulling Vaan behind him. "My brother and I really need to get going. Good bye."

"Bye Lor- Bye Vayne!" Vaan says, throwing back the greeting as they leave the septum.

"You can't call him by his name!" Reks hisses, scandalized.

"But he said I could!"

Reks clicks his teeth but doesn't reply. He doesn't say anything until he doesn't feel cold eyes burning into his back.

* * *

"Vaan, do you even know who you were talking to?" Reks growls when they are finally among the masses, protected by the crowds.

Vaan gives him a petulant look and Reks sighs, mentally preparing himself for a battle. "It was Vayne Solidor," he replies. "But-"

"Then why were you talking to him?" Reks cuts in sharply. "You know what he's done!"

"It wasn't his fault though," Vaan argues back.

By the gods, his brother is foolish. "It's _not_his fault that he executed his brothers under treason?" Reks asks with a blank look, darting past the people with ease. Sometimes it's good to be small and unnoticeable; they need to get down to the base of Mount Bur-Omisace as soon as possible.

"He didn't know they'd get executed!" Vaan defends. "He thought their father would forgive them! He was really sad about his brothers, I could tell!"

"Could you, could you really?" Reks says with a sigh. He puts his hands on Vaan's shoulders and meets his eyes. "Vaan, Vayne Solidor is a politician. It's practically his job to get people on his side! If he can woo all of Archades to forgive his fratricide, he can gain your sympathies!"

Vaan sighs and shakes his head at Reks. "That's your problem Reks," he says. "You're always too critical of people. Sometimes, you need to give them a benefit of the doubt. Besides-" here, Vaan sticks his tongue out and runs towards the chocobo pens. "I'm much better at reading people than you!"

Reks laughs and follows behind him, catching Vaan quickly with his longer strides.

He never brings the topic up again but Reks can't help but be on guard the whole trip back to Rabanastre, where he knows they'll be safe.

* * *

_Rabanastre, Year 702 Old Valendian_

It is almost 9 months since their parents' death, and Reks' life starts to get a semblance of stability at last. His experience in dealing with traders gets him a higher ranking job that pays better so he is finally able to pay Moniq for Vaan's apprenticeship, though the Jeweller does give him a steep discount.

Reks' 15th birthday is celebrated with a surprise birthday party from Vaan with all the invitees bringing a dish for potluck. Hadir brings a sweet, almond based pie that substitutes for a cake and Reks can't remember smiling this much since the plague swept through. Vaan somehow manages to also invite Brisin and Khala and Reks wonders how his brother kept in touch with them.

Vaan waits until everyone's left to present Reks with his present. It is a set of stud earrings, in the shape of his family crest; he's even managed to inlay slivers of lapis lazuli to bring the blue colour in the inner parts of the shell.

"Moniq helped me set the stone," Vaan says with a bright smile. "But I did the rest! I tried really hard to get the shape right!"

Reks can't help but let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Vaan," he replies, hugging his brother tightly. "It's wonderful."

Vaan produces a matching set from his pocket, though the shape is not as well made as his. "I thought we could each wear them, so everyone can tell we're family!"

Reks hugs him again and tells Vaan that it is a wonderful idea.

* * *

Their housing starts to become more like a home, with small trinkets that litter the tables and some of Vaan's completed pieces proudly displayed on a shelf.

Their home is humble but Reks feels a flickering of hope that life will get better, that his family will get through this.

But he forgets that the Gods are cruel and they do not allow for such happiness in him.

* * *

They are in the Estersands, looking for Galbana lilies. Vaan wants to grow their own so they'd have enough when they go to "visit" mom and dad.

Before, Reks would have complained about the expenses that they do not have, but this year, his job pays enough for them to do this, so he simply shrugs and spends his free day looking for a Galbana Lilly to bring back.

It is there, amongst the Estersands that everything falls apart.

They are eating when it happens; Reks feels a hand gripping the back of his shirt and he's thrown across the sands. The sharp grains dig into his skin and his head pounds from the impact of hitting the dune; his eyes make out a bleary figure until his vision sharpens and he chokes out a gasp.

"Vayne Solidor," Reks groans. The Archadian and the Judge from Bur-Omisace stand before him; he wonders where Vaan is. He hopes his brother ran.

The Judge grips his neck and lifts him from the ground with ease. He can't breathe, and he chokes shallowly as he desperately tries to break free. His hearing fades out and it is as though he is underwater. Just when he is sure he'll die like this, the Judge drops him.

It is Vaan, and he is waving his free arm up and down, the other in Vayne's tight grip. He's screaming something at the Archadian but Reks can't hear anything but the pounding of his own heart. Reks needs to tell Vaan to run, to escape, but only a pained groan escapes his mouth.

They are leaving; Vayne is taking his brother away. No, no, it cannot be.

"Please," he begs, because there is no limit to how far he would fall for his brother. Reks can't move but tries to stumble towards them nonetheless. "Please… Please, he's all I have left."

Even Vayne must understand; even he cannot be heartless enough to take Vaan away.

But the bastard doesn't even deign to face him as he lies beaten on the desert sands. "My apologies," Vayne says with his poisoned tongue. "But for too long has my life been plagued by darkness for me to give up this light."

"No, please," Reks gasps, as they disappear deeper into the desert, where Reks knows a Skyship lies waiting.

He screams and tries to catch them, only for a sharp kick to his stomach leaves him reeling. The Judge crouches next to him, pressing a firm, gloved hand on his shoulder and keeping him down.

"Look Boy," he orders sharply. "If you value your life, I suggest you forget your brother. Pretend he died with the plague."

Then the Judge is gone with a swish of his cape, dropping a heavy pouch on Reks' back as he leaves.

It is over; he has lost everything.

Reks wants to scream, to run after them, but his battered body refuses to listen to him and he falls into oblivion.


	2. Prologue Part 2-Battles

_Rabanastre, Year 702 Old Valendian_

Reks wakes up with a groan, whispering out Vaan's name as he does so. The room he is in is unfamiliar, and he tenses when the door creaks open.

It is a young girl about Vaan's age, with pale blonde hair tied into braids. She carries a bowl of water carefully, making sure to step slowly as to avoid a spill.

"Oh, you're awake," she says with a smile. "I'll go get mama."

The girl's name is Penelo; she and her two older brothers had been out herb collecting for her mother when they had found him, bleeding from his head and unconscious.

"You gave poor Penelo quite a fright!" the woman says as she enters the room. Her name is Galis and she gives him a bitter tea to drink that will help him with his headache.

"Where am I?" Reks asks.

"At our house," Penelo answers, quite unhelpfully.

"You are in Rabanastre," an older man adds as he and two other men join them. It is obviously Penelo's father and brothers. "I must ask, what had happened to you back there?"

"Yea," one of the brothers says. "I mean, at first I thought you got robbed or something, but we found that on your back, so it probably wasn't the case."

The brother nods to a heavy sac on the bedside table. "I mean, it's filled with gil! Unless you had something better for thieves to steal!"

Reks glares at the gil with disgust; did the Archadian think his brother could simply be bought? He grips the blanket tightly and breathes steadily through his nose. He cannot tell these people the truth; who would believe him? Vayne Solidor stealing some orphan from the streets, they'd probably think he was doing the child a favour!

He needs to leave, to talk to someone he can trust. Reks pushes himself off the bed and staggers towards the door.

"Wait, you still need rest!" Galis says, jumping to her feet.

"I'm fine, I live in Rabanastre as well, and I'd rather rest at home," Reks answers. "Keep the gil, please, I don't want to see that ever again."

"I'll make sure he gets home, mama!" Penelo chirps and she is by his side in a moment.

Reks shakes his head. "You don't have to."

"I want to," Penelo shoots back with a smile. Reks has dealt with enough stubborn children to admit defeat and simply nods.

Reks, followed by Penelo and her brothers, exits the two story home to the bustle of bazaar. This family is in the same class his own family once had been; well-to-do merchants or other specialized occupation.

"I live quite far from here," he says. "You really don't have to do this."

"It's fine," the taller brother says. His hair is darker than Penelo's, closer to a light brown than blond. "I'm Trist, and my brother is Ram. And you know Penelo already."

"I am Reks," he replies, dodging past the shoppers in the bazaar.

"My brother and I are back home for leave," Ram says, his hair light like Penelo's. It's shorn short, close to his scalp.

"They are in the Royal Dalmascan army!" Penelo says proudly, walking with a skip in her steps. "They are teaching me how to defend myself!"

Reks nods in response. The walk back is quiet, with only Penelo asking questions that Reks answers with as little words as possible. He doesn't have the energy to humour the girl. He thanks them when they arrive at his apartment building and he leaves without hearing their response.

He needs to get home, to be by himself.

Once he arrives, he collapses into a chair. The façade of calm he's kept shatters and he screams into his hands, crying for the first time since his parents' death.

"Vaan," he cries into his arms. "What am I supposed to do now? I-What can I do?"

He spends the next hour like this, frozen in his grief.

* * *

Reks breathes slowly, trying to regain his calm. Vaan isn't dead; he still has a chance to get him back. He needs to find a way to travel, to get information.

While he is still wracking his head, his traitorous stomach grumbles, and Reks sighs to himself. Even with his brother missing, he cannot ignore his bodily needs. He can't stand to stay in these rooms for a second longer and he leaves for the Sandsea for a cheap meal.

* * *

He is half-heartedly picking at his meal when he sees the Notice Board by the entrance. It comes to him then; hunters! They are able to move freely from country to country to find petitioners, and they are able to garner information with ease. Of course, the higher ranking you are as a hunter, the greater your agency in any country but everyone has to start somewhere.

Reks shovels the rest of his food, throws the gils down on the table and runs out.

He needs to get some input on his idea, and he needed to visit Moniq anyways.

* * *

After himself, Moniq is the one that cares for Vaan the most. After her brother's death, she brought Vaan under her wing and looked after him when Reks was too tired or busy with work.

Reks owes it to her to tell her about Vaan.

The red skinned Bangaa is finishing a beautiful hair net, small clear crystals hanging like rain droplets on a silver wire as thin as spider silk, when Reks walks in.

"You look terrible," Moniq says bluntly, putting the net down on a mannequin head and standing to face him.

Reks tries to keep his voice calm, but can't stop the sharp hitch in his voice when he says, "It's Vaan… I… Moniq-"

He loses all semblance of calm when the Bangaa places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Moniq, he's gone. What am I supposed to do now?!" he murmurs, tangling his fingers into his white hair.

Moniq directs him to her workspace and pushes him into her seat. "What happened?" she asks, her voice calm despite how her hand is clenched tightly.

He doesn't tell her the whole truth, because dropping Vayne Solidor's name is a recipe for disaster, but he does tell her that Vaan was taken away by an Archadian while they had been out in the Estersands.

The Jeweller remains quiet during his explanation, stopping him only to pass a handkerchief to him. "What do you plan on doing?" she asks once he is done. "It seems this Archadian-" she spits out the word darkly. "Is quite powerful."

"I want to find him, and then steal him back," Reks says. "I was thinking of becoming a hunter; if I travel around long enough, maybe I can get something, some information for why V- that man took my brother."

"You're a little young," Moniq replies. "Do you even know how the Hunter system works?"

"I can learn," Reks says with grim determination.

"What of armour, and weapons?" she asks, crossing her thick arms in front of her.

"I'll move to a place with cheaper rent, maybe Lowtown, since I won't be there as often if I'm travelling," he answers, his mind already turning. "I still have some money that I was going to pay you for the next three months of Vaan's apprenticeship but… And I can sell most of the furniture. And Hunts pay too, right?"

Moniq sighs as though tired by his insistence. "I'd suggest you complete a couple of hunts first before moving down to Lowtown," she advises. "Don't worry about the rent at your apartment, I'll pay for it, so just focus on getting some armour and an actual weapon. That little dagger of yours doesn't count."

"Moniq, I can't-" he starts to protest before she cuts him off with a raised hand.

"Reks, I want Vaan back as much as you," she says. "But I don't have the freedom to drop everything and go. I'll keep an ear out here for any information of an Archadian travelling with a Dalmascan; you should see how some of my clients talk, can't even see them breathe!"

"Thank you, Moniq," he says; his heart feels warm at her words. "For everything."

* * *

It's a good thing Reks is quite proficient at selling wares now, and his furniture are easily sold. He sells everything but one of the beds, and he becomes very good at eating while standing. He contemplates selling some of Vaan's finished crafts but can't find it in himself to do so.

He buys a round shield, a longsword, and invests in iron helmet and armour. When he goes to buy potions, he bumps into Penelo and Galis; it turns out her family trades healing items with Migelo, the sundries shop owner. They give him several potions as well as some echo herbs, antidotes and phoenix downs when they hear about his plans of being a hunter.

"Are you quite sure though?" Galis asks, as she hands over the items. "You are quite young; do you have any form of training?"

"A bit ma'am," Reks replies, placing the goods in his satchel. He's only had some basic training to defend himself for if he were to ever be attacked by thieves while trading. He knows some rudimentary magick as well, so he hopes this will be enough to at least finish some weak hunts. "Thank you for the potions."

The first hunt he takes is a level I mark, the lowest ranking for a hunt; it takes him back to Nabudis, where a woman wants some sort of fish creature killed and her ring it stole returned.

He stops by Khala's place and buys a lightening spell scroll, since he knows that the creature is weak to lightening; the nu-mou, bless him, throws in a cure spell scroll as well. When Khala asks about Vaan, Reks simply says that he's gone missing and he is looking for him. Khala promises to keep an eye out for Vaan and even promises Brisin's services though the sky pilot isn't there.

Reks reads over the lightening scroll, learning the magicks as he meanders over to where the fish has been spotted. The other creatures are not very strong so he is able to stumble through each battle somehow.

The hunt is a rousing success, thanks to the thunder spell. He even manages to pluck one of its scales before the fish is killed. He slits the stomach open to find the woman's ring and returns to the petitioner for his reward.

He is paid 300 gil and given 2 teleportation stones. She tells him that her husband works in the airlines and is able to get the stones for a discount. He is also able to sell the scale to an artisan that wants to use the scale as lining on a mirror.

He doesn't get any news of Vaan, but he garners some interesting gossip about Nabradia's eldest prince's secret affairs. Three women at once?! How is that possible?

His first hunt gives Reks confidence that this career is the right choice and that he will eventually get the information he needs.

* * *

Reks' second hunt brings him back to Rabanastre, where the petitioner is waiting in the Sandsea tavern.

The man is a merchant whose goods are being held up because the caraveners fear an attack from something called a Linder Wolf, whose aggressive nature has sprung forth due to mating season. He notices the bar's owner listening in with interest but ignores it. The man is probably just bored out of his mind in the tavern.

Before setting off, Reks buys some more potions, and bumps into Penelo once more; they exchange pleasantries, and he learns that Ram has moved up in rank. He also purchases an assassin's dagger, which is coated with a fine layer of poison that has a chance to knock out an enemy; he hopes the Linder Wolf will be susceptible to it.

He walks to the Westersands, where the winds have thankfully died down, leaving him with a clear view of the area. The petitioner had told him that it would be near the southern region of Galtea Downs.

The wolf is enormous, its firey red pelt bright against the pale sand. He casts blizzard on it and it seems to do some sort of damage, but not enough. He unsheathes his longsword, checks that his assassin's dagger is within easy reach and prepares for a difficult battle.

Reks hacks at the beast a couple times with the longsword before switching to the assassin's dagger; with some open wounds, the poison is more likely to work. The first three tries yields no results but when Reks stabs the beast for a fourth time, it goes down into a poisoned slumber. He uses his longsword to stab it through the heart and he takes one of its fangs as proof. Unfortunately, the hide and pelt are too damaged to be of any value to sell. He casts cure on himself and opts to save his potions for when cure will not be enough.

* * *

The merchant is delighted when he hears of the wolf's demise, and gives Reks 350 gil and a whetstone his shop is importing in from Rozzaria; the whetstone is made of fine golden-hued stone and something Reks would never be able to afford on his own. The petitioner declines to keep the fang and also gives it to Reks.

When he is about to leave, Reks is stopped by the bar owner. "You boy, you a hunter?" he asks, walking up to block Reks' way.

"Who's asking?" Reks replies, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Apologies. I am Tomaj," the hume replies, fiddling with his ridiculous scarf. "And you must be very new at this hunting thing. I mean, you don't even have a clan primer!"

"A what?"

Tomaj shoves a thin booklet towards him. "A clan primer," he says. "It helps you keep track of what hunts you've completed and which ones you are on. The more of the book you've filled, the better."

Reks opens the book and places the two slips that say he's completed the hunts. The book has a section for bills taken, and a section for signatures once the hunt is done and completed. The slips magicks itself onto the primer and the book shows the two creatures he's killed.

"Also, if I were serious about being a hunter," Tomaj advises. "I'd take this friendly suggestion from this handsome barkeep. In front of a building in the north end, there is a bangaa standing in front of it; go visit him, and show the primer. He'll show you in."

"But why would I want to do that?" Reks asks.

"It's advice," Tomaj replies with a shrug. "One I'd take for sure though."

It's such a strange counsel that Reks takes it; it won't kill him to give the bangaa a visit. He enters into the hall to see numerous hunters, some simply talking, others training with each other. Reks goes to the top, where the leader, a small moogle, is watching everything.

Just talking to the moogle, Monteblanc, gets Reks into Clan Centurio, a exclusive clan of hunters that specialize hunting "elite marks," monsters stronger than most. He wonders if it's this easy to get in for everyone.

Entering the clan turns out to be an excellent move. It turns out Moniq's cousin, Monid, is part of the clan, and the bangaa agrees to teach him some hand to hand defences in return for Reks stopping Moniq from trying to set him up with someone. Monid's friends, a young hume couple named Siri and Moqu agree to teach him sword training and magicks in return for taking care of their toddler son once in a while. Thanks to their tutelage, pretty soon Reks becomes quite proficient in both weaponry and magicks.

Ma'kenroh gathers information for the clan and Reks learns of some interesting things. Nothing quite concrete about Vaan but he keeps everything filed away.

His popularity as a hunter grows and soon Reks is getting personal requests for hunts. His information network also grows more and more, and he is hopeful that Vaan will come back home soon.

* * *

He takes some time off from hunting to go to Bur-Omisace, the same time he did the previous year, but instead of going with his brother, he goes alone. With him he brings two Galbana Lillies, packed tightly against several sunstones.

Reks plants them on top of the Dragon head, right next to the two that were planted the year before.

"I kept our promise; I'll keep bringing them until… until you can join me," he says to the orange blooms, tapping the dirt down with his hands. "And I'll keep this one too, Vaan; I'll bring you back, I promise."

* * *

_Nabudis, Year 703 Old Valendian_

The Prancing Chocobo is bustling with people, and Reks smiles as the gils in his pouch clinks; he will eat well tonight.

It is just when he is finishing his meal that he hears a muttering at the corner table next to him.

"Aye, radiant like the sun, Vayne's girl," one man says before laughing drunkenly to his drink. "Heard she's not Archadian though, what a shame."

"With hair like that, of course not!" the other hume says. "Like spun gold, my brother says!"

They are Archadian merchants, if the dress is any indication, and they are drunk enough that Reks will be able to question them with ease. He slides out of his seat and waves a bar maid over before walking up and joining the three merchants.

"How about I buy a round, mates?" Reks says, slipping into a false Archadian accent; it isn't perfect, but for people this drunk, it should do the trick. He passes some gils to the bar maid. "Whatever my friends want, good miss."

It's laughably easy to draw them back into their conversation. The hardest part is to keep his face as wolfish as they talk about Vayne Solidor's girl. A lady with eyes like the sky and hair blinding like the sun. The merchants get into an argument about whether she is from Dalmasca, or Nabradia or former Landis. Reks makes non-committal noises while they cluck amongst themselves, desperate to be the one who knows the most. They eventually settle for Dalmasca, since she's "too tanned" to be of Nabradia or Landis.

The more they talk, the colder Reks feels himself getting, because what they are implying is something he cannot allow himself to think. Because Vaan is still _so_young and Vayne is so much older and it just can't be.

By this time, Reks has had a couple to drink, not as much as the merchants to be sure, but the buzz is present.

One of them has a bit too much to drink, to go as so far as to say what he says. "But you know, I bet their sex life is something interesting," he drawls, the filter between his brain and mouth long gone. To gossip about the Solidor's private life so blatantly is dangerous. "With someone so exotic and all. Our birds, they just lie there like a dead fish!"

Reks slams his fists on that table as he stands up sharply.

"What's with you?" one of them asks, furrowing his brows.

"Just a stomach ache," Reks lies with a laugh. "Not used to Nabradia palate, you know."

The others at the table laugh. "That's true, mighty spicy stuff Nabradia."

"Too much fish too! Get me some good red meat!"

Reks weakly chuckles and flees to his room, before stumbling to the toilet to vomit.

He put his hands tight on each ear, feeling the shell shaped earring digging into the palm of his hands. "Oh God, oh god," Reks groans, as he retches. "I'm too slow, Vaan. I'm too slow; I'll be too late and you'll be broken."

Reks mutters nonsense into the toilet as he vomits his meal before stumbling drunkenly into the bed.

* * *

When he wakes up, Reks can't help but laugh at his overreaction. He laughs at his drunken mind's ability to connect all the wrong dots. He chuckles almost hysterically to himself because what was so distressing to him last night is finally the key piece of gossip he needs.

Vayne's woman is a _woman_ and Vaan is a boy; it is stupid of Reks to think it'd be the same person. But it finally explains why Vayne would want a Dalmascan slave.

The woman is most likely lonely; if how the men at the tavern were any indication, they only see her as some sort of exotic pet for the Archadian prince.

But would she ask for someone to be as chained as she is? The merchants had called her a pillar of hope to the average citizen, someone that embodied the virtues of charity. Would someone like that allow Vayne to enslave another?

_If she was desperate enough; if she was lonely enough_. His mind supplies.

The woman seems reasonable though, be willing to negotiate.

If Reks brought her enough gil, would she let Vaan go? If he promised to visit her so she won't be so lonely, even if Vayne Solidor terrified him, would she give Vaan back?

Gil. He'll need gil.

Reks would bring her so much gil that she won't be able to refuse giving Vaan back.

_But would someone with that much power need the funds?_

Reks has to hope she does.

* * *

Reks moves permanently to Lowtown; he buys a small one story home in a hidden alcove of Lowtown. There's nothing much inside, only a small bed and a desk. He bought the house for a single reason; the house backs into the very walls of the Lowtown. He could make a secret room but it'd look the same size from the outside.

Reks completes the work in secret, using a combination of spells including silence, fire, and blizzard. The False wall looks exactly like the rest of the walls, and the door is cleverly hidden by a combination of a bookshelf and vanish spell. The vanish spell is set to re-cast every time it wears off through the use of a specially made magicite; the magicite only lasts 6 months but Reks knows he won't be gone for that long of a time and he can easily replace the magicite.

Then he begins taking marks like a mad man; Reks takes any hunt he can, then he stores the money he made in containers in the hidden room. Almost everything he makes goes into this room, and he hoards the gil almost obsessively. He buys cheap food, tries to use magick as much as possible instead of potions, since magick power eventually regenerates again. He sleeps rarely in inns, opting to squat in whatever area he can.

There are only two things he allows himself to splurge on. One is weapons and armour; because having good equipment means that he can take better and stronger hunts. The other is Galbana Lillies; he hires someone living in the village by the banks of Nebra to raise and care for a patch of Galbana Lillies. Reks always needs to have enough to take to Mount Bur-Omisace, after all.

There is a sense of urgency in the way he moves now; Reks needs to raise as much money as possible, quickly. Who knows if or when Vayne will bring _two_ Dalmascans to his bed instead of just the one?

* * *

_Rabanastre, Year 704 Old Valendian_

Reks comes back for Siri and Moqu's funeral. He had been in the hunter's camp in Phon coast when he heard of their death at the hands of an elite mark.

When he arrives at the city, he is shocked to find how busy everyone looks, how festive the whole city is. There is an excitement that crackles in the air and all of Rabanastre is bursting with energy. Reks can't find it in him to join the festivities, with his mentors' death fresh in his mind.

The clan hall is silent, Moqu's son, Rori, crying on Monid's massive shoulder. The Bangaa is crouched low to allow the hume child to cry.

Reks places a hand on Monid's arm. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and takes Rori into his arms.

Monid's face is crumpled with grief. "I'll kill that bastard," he growls. "I'll kill him."

"What of Rori?" Reks asks when the boy has been spirited away to Monteblanc. He sees the moogle give something to Rori.

"I'll raise him," Monid says. "Least I can do for them."

Reks nods and presses a package in the bangaa's hands. "They're sleep stones," Reks says. "Made by Nu-Mou apothecary to guarantee peaceful sleep."

Monid does not thank him but nods in reply.

"Why's the city so busy?" Reks asks.

Monid grunts as he rolls his eyes. "The princess is getting married to a Nabradian prince," he mutters, the sharp bite of his voice back. "Don't know why the whole city is jumping for joy about it."

"Perhaps because Nabradia can now be Dalmasca's shield," Reks replies. He has no desire to join this war; no hunter does. They are beyond borders; they protect Ivalice, not just a single country.

Bansat wanders up to them, his voice jolly as always. "Will you go watch the wedding? I heard there'll be a parade an' everything!" the seeq says. "It might distract the boy."

Monid says that he wants to be alone with Rori so Reks goes to watch the parade with Bansat and Krjn. They watch from the top of the clan building, looking down at the crowd below them. The parade is extravagant, with the royal couple riding a float pulled by a dozen chocobo. The princess' dress is inlaid with numerous chains and the gems glisten in the sunlight. Reks wonders if Moniq has had a hand in making a part of the dress.

The prince is in pure white armour, and it matches his white hair quite well. It is prince Rasler, the youngest son; the other two princes, if Reks recalls from Brisin's descriptions, has darker hair like their mother.

Reks gets bored when the actual ceremony starts and he leaves for Migelo's sundries; he needs to stock up on echo herbs.

"Reks!" a girl calls and grabs his arm. Reks snaps back to face the intruder.

"Penelo?" he says. They meet regularly, since he is a frequent guest at Migelo's store and she visits often for errands from her mother. She is a friend, but not one as close as Moniq. She is ashen today, her normally rosy complexion pale and withdrawn. "What's wrong?"

"Reks…it's…it's nothing," she says with a watery laugh. "I was just worried about you."

Reks raises a brow at the younger girl. "Whatever for?" he asks.

"You were in Phon Coast," she says. "I thought you were killed by a battalion."

It's strange that she'd make that sort of connection. If he recalls, Archadia hasn't attacked a trading post yet. Reks' eyes widen as he puts everything together. "Penelo, did something happen to your parents?"

Something in Penelo's face breaks and Reks moves them as fast as he can to a storeroom; it's a humiliating experience to break down in front of strangers and he'd like to spare Penelo that as much as possible.

She cries into his chest and tells him that everyone's gone. Mother and father killed by rouge battalion that decided to attack a trading post, brothers killed in combat during the initial attacks by Archadia.

Reks holds her and doesn't say anything because he understands. Words have no meaning here, and this is all he can offer her.

* * *

Nabradia lies in ruin. Those are the first words Brisin says to him when the red-head more or less barges into his home, parts of his pale skin blistered from the influx of mist. Khala sways weakly beside him and Reks ushers them in before leading the nu-mou to the bed.

"What happened?" he asks while casting his strongest white magick on the shop owner. Reks throws a potion at Brisin, who leans against the wall as he drinks the potion with a nod.

"Archadia attacked Nabradia," the hume says, pushing back the copper hair that's fallen out of the braid. "They used something … A weapon that created an explosion of mist in the royal palace. We were only saved because Khala had made a barrier around the shop. The Shatter was almost too damaged to fly, but we got here."

Reks bites his lips. "If what you say is true and Nabradia has fallen," he states, pulling back his magick once he thinks Khala is stabilized. "Then Rabanastre will not be safe for much longer."

Beside him, the old Nu-mou coughs with a gurgle; Reks narrows his eyes as he refocuses his white magick. "Reks, you must leave," Khala groans out. "The Imperials march with ferocity; Dalmasca will not hold."

"You'd have to get going then, to leave Rabanastre in time," Reks says with a weak laugh. "Where do you plan to go?"

"I'd go to Balfonheim," Brisin replies. "Even though Khala's insisting that we both go to Mount Bur-Omisace."

Khala gives Brisin an annoyed stare. "I told you, Balfonheim is a den of thieves and sky pirates," he hisses. "It won't be safe. Mount Bur-Omisace is a sacred land, even Archadia will not attack there."

Reks nods. "It's also in Jagd," he adds. "No sky ship will be able to fly over it. The mountain will be safest."

"Come with us, Reks," Khala practically begs. "Rabanastre is not safe."

Reks thinks of Penelo, of the loss she just faced. He thinks of Monid, who won't leave Rabanastre while Rori is still so young. He thinks about all the people that need him and sighs as he shakes his head.

"I can't leave," Reks says. "I'm needed here."

Brisin raises a brow. "I thought you said you were a hunter, beyond the limitations of borders and not bound to one country."

Reks smiles at the words. "I'm not staying for Dalmasca," is all he says.

* * *

Brisin and Khala leave after two days; they plan on flying until Ozmone plain then taking a chocobo from the Garif village. When Reks offers Khala gil for their journey, the Nu-mou refuses so firmly that he doesn't ask again.

He just slips it to Brisin and gets a wink in return.

* * *

Rabanastre is in a false calm; no one mentions the war, or the failed battle in Nalbina fortress. No one mentions Prince Rasler's death.

Archadia marches ever closer and all the people do is complain about the rising food prices and the sudden lack of goods.

* * *

"Conscripted?" Reks hisses out when the army official comes to his house. The man looks visibly uncomfortable in his surroundings, eyes darting between the darken walls of Lowtown.

"Yes, Dalmasca requires all men of good health to participate in the army," the man replies, straightening his back in an attempt to show his prestige. "Reks, son of Altim, you have been called."

"For what end?" Reks growls. "Dalmasca's victory is impossible. To attack Archadia will lead to all our deaths!"

"There is no plan to attack Archadia," the man argues back. "It will be for the defence of Dalamsca!"

"You will doom us all," Reks says, trying to make the man change his mind. "Conscripting these men will be for naught; you'lllead us to death."

The official sniffs haughtily. "It is the will of King Raminas."

"And what is one man's life to a king?" Reks mutters to himself, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Training is simple for Reks but looking at the other recruits makes him see how ill-prepared the rest of his battalion is. They fumble through magicks training, and many of them do not have the strength to wield the weapons provided. Their stances are wrong, and they leave openings through their exercises. They are nothing more than cannon fodder; a distraction while the real soldiers fight.

Captain Fon Ronsenburg at least attempts to train the new recruits as much as he can but Captain Azelas looks as though he's given up on them.

Reks personally takes time on his free days to train some of the worst recruits and goes around trading the heavy swords for something more lightweight but equally effective.

He wants to show Captain Azelas that they are worth more than just moving targets.

* * *

The treaty signing between Archadia and Dalmasca is a trap and Captain Basch leads the charge to Nalbina Fortress to stop the signing.

"To think Archadia would fall so low," Gria mutters, leaning against one of the fallen pillars. Gria had been one of the few from the new recruits that had any sort of battle experience. He has an older sister and a younger brother back in Rabanastre. The infiltration to Nalbina is a disaster; most of the soldiers have neither the skill nor the experience to survive an attack from multiple sides. Reks' battalion lies broken at the entrance hall of the fortress, successful in getting in but at heavy costs. They're recuperating, trying to save who they can.

"Where are they even getting this information from?" Reks mutters in reply. "Why would Archadia invite King Raminas then assassinate him? It makes no sense. It doesn't seem right."

"Why attack Nabradia in the first place?" Gria retorts. "Who knows what goes through the mind of those metal heads?"

Captain Basch marches over to them, his armour clinking as he walks. "Are any of you in need of healing?" the blond captain asks. Reks heard that Captain Fon Ronsenburg hails from Landis, but he fits right in with the Rabanastre natives, with his light hair and pale eyes.

"I think we're all in one piece," Gria says, straightening his back and popping the joints.

Captain Azelas joins them, putting a gauntleted hand on Captain Basch's shoulder. "We must move," he says before leaning close to mutter to Captain Fon Ronsenburg. "Basch, it's as I feared; they're slowing us down."

Reks glares at Captain Azelas and giving him a sharp smile. "Well, it's not like there is many of us left to slow you down now," he hisses, unsheathing his sword.

"Yea, they're all, you know, _dead _on the ground," Gria adds. They share a smile that is more teeth than amusement. He and Gria have a same sort of humour, dark and biting with enough sarcasm to make the noble Captain Azelas turn red with rage. "If you didn't want greenhorns slowing you down, you shouldn't have conscripted."

"Would have been better if you trained us a little better too," Reks grumbles. Normally, he'd have better semblance of respect for the Captains but at this point, with his life hanging by a thread, Reks finds that he doesn't care to hold his tongue.

"If we trained you so poorly, then how is it you've done so admirably?" Azelas growls, the captain rising to the bait.

"Need to be able to fight to be a caravener," Gria responds. "We aren't protected by the high walls of Rabanastre. Reks there, he's a hunter, so it's not like his job is in any danger."

"Always a mark in need to be hunted."

"Stop this quibble," Captain Ronsenburg cuts in before anyone can jump into the fray. "As you've said Vossler, we've no time for petty arguments."

They salvage whatever weapons they can and move out, and though Reks doesn't fear Captain Azelas, he makes sure to stay on his far side.

* * *

Captain Ronsenburg sends Captain Azelas and most of the men ahead, leaving Reks and a few others to fight against the straggle of Archadian Imperials. However for every three they kill and 10 steps they take, there are always more Imperials slowing them down.

"This is getting out of hand," Reks mutters before turning to Captain Ronsenburg. "Captain, there is no time for this. I'll handle them, go to his Majesty."

The Captain looks to argue so Reks adds, "If King Raminas has already signed the treaty, Archadia will have no need for him anymore. You must go, hurry!"

"Godspeed," the Captain says before nodding to the other soldiers and leading them up the steps.

Killing the Imperials comes with ease; Reks pretends the man under the mask is Vayne Solidor and his sword finds its mark every time. Archadian soldiers have better armour but they are hindered by the heavy metal and Reks jumps from each hit and mimics the tactic of the giza rabbits, slipping in quickly for an attack then retreating and drawing his opponents into a strategically favourable location before letting loose black magick.

With the final Imperial dead at his feet, Reks drinks his last potion before running to join the others.

* * *

When he arrives at the signing chamber, Reks lets out a choked gasp. His throat tightens as the rest of his brigade lies dead. Reks springs into action when he catches sight of Gria, running towards the caravener and placing a shaking hand on his neck. There is a pulse, faint and weakening and Reks clenches his hands, trying to draw out whatever magic he has left.

"Come on," Reks hisses, willing his mind to obey. If even one can be saved, the pain from magick overuse will be worth it. He smiles as some magick gathers in his hands; there is little but enough, just enough. Reks allows the white magic to flow from his hands to Gria, and watches with narrowed eyes as the wound on his abdomen closes ever slowly. Once that is done, Reks pants shallowly with laboured breath; Gria lies unconscious, but he will live.

A soft sound of a sword swinging through the air brings Reks back to his surroundings. He stumbles up and tries to grab his weapon but it is too late. He presses a shaking hand on his side, blood coating his fingers. The blade pulls out with a sickly squelch and Reks crumbles to the ground; he needs to heal himself, but there isn't enough magick in him. Reks presses down on the wound as he lies face down on the palace grounds. His attacker walks past him towards the throne where the dead King Raminas sits.

Reks' eyes widen in shock when he sees who it is. "Captain Ronsenburg, Why?" he groans out, blood dribbling from his lips. This is bad; he has severe internal bleeding, he needs a potion or to heal it quickly. He cannot die like this.

Captain Basch faces him, eyes blank of any emotion. "The king was planning on selling Dalmasca all along," he speaks more things but the rest of what the man says goes over Reks' head because he has heard this voice before, but not from the Captain.

_"Look Boy, if you value your life, I suggest you forget your brother. Pretend he died with the plague."_

This man is not Captain Fon Ronsenburg. Reks feels a renewed strength within him, and manages to heal part of the wound on his side; it is still deep but not bleeding as heavily. He will not die by that man's sword.

The fake Captain continues to talk of betrayal and a Dalmasca bought and sold but Reks hears nothing but the pounding of his ears.

There is a collective gasp and Reks twists his head to look back.

"Vayne Solidor," Reks hisses quietly, as the man strolls forward with the other Dalamscan dignitaries. Several Imperials run forward and push the fake Basch down. The Dalmascan nobles whisper amongst themselves, looking on with horror as their leader lies dead and their once heroic general in chains.

"And to think, good Captain, that Archadia would have given some autonomy to Dalmasca."

"We'll never surrender to you," the Captain replies. "The Dalmascan people are not cattle to be sold by a traitor king."

"Captain Ronsenburg, how could you say that?!" a councilwoman asks with a hint of hysteria. "This treaty was our only hope for a peaceful resolution!"

The loudness grows until it seems everyone in the signing hall is screaming over each other, though Vayne stays as impassive as before.

Beside him, Reks can feel Gria moving as he awakens, but the bloodloss is too much and he falls into darkness.

"Vaan," he whispers as everything fades.

* * *

_Nalbina, Year 704 Old Valendian_

Reks' cell is a small isolated room in the far corner of Nalbina dungeon. Archadia converted the lower level of Nalbina fortress into a dungeon once it was taken from Nabradia; it had once housed the poor of the city. He is alone most of the time, the guards only coming in to question him on the day of King Raminas' assassination. He is the only one left; though everyone that still lived were arrested, they were all freed once they supported the story of Captain Basch's madness and betrayal.

He doesn't begrudge his brigade members; they've never heard the Fake Basch's voice, never had it burned into their minds.

His only solaces are that they let him free in his cell, instead of chaining him down, and the small window that gives him a glimpse of the sky.

They tell him he'll walk free as soon as he speaks of Basch's betrayal.

"But it wasn't him; it was another wearing his face," Reks always replies, through the whipping and the burning and the drowning. He will not sully the Captain's name with lies; he will defend the man since he cannot do so for himself anymore.

He will **not **let Vayne Solidor win.

The Imperials are getting frustrated, Reks can tell. Their tortures have increased recently, their tactics more creative. They inflict sap and Reks feels like something is clawing him from the inside, or they use fire and blizzard in combination, making sure he cannot acclimate to any one temperature. Reks tries to heal himself as much as he can after each session, but his magick is limited by the sheer number of wounds and his body's weakness.

* * *

"You won't be here for much longer," one of his torturers say flippantly as he adds more weights on the device. It adds more pressure on his hands; a device designed to crush the victim's fingers. Reks bites his lips until they bleed; no torture has made him scream yet, and he doesn't intend on letting them hear him now. The torturers today are of a more brutish sort; they aren't very intelligent, happy to talk freely without any censor.

"Oh aye," the other one says, tapping his blade. "Some of the uppers think they should just brand you a conspirator and execute you. I mean, why else would you defend Fon Ronsenurg with such vehemence?"

"You cannot silence the truth forever," Reks gasps out, his spittle tinged with blood. "Vayne's lies will be revealed soon enough."

The one with the blade shakes his head, his helmet hiding his face. "Oi, mate, I think we might have actually made the poor lad a little mad with our interrogations. Muttering about Lord Vayne and conspiracies!"

* * *

The tortures have stopped since last week, when the two Imperials mentioned his execution. Reks stares up at the sky, and watches the clouds drift past. Sooner then he hopes, two soldiers march in and handcuff him, wrists bound behind his back, and pushes his shoulders until he is on his knees. Reks understands why a moment later as Vayne Solidor slides into the room like the serpent he is.

"Our noble yet naive hunter," Vayne says, standing in front of him. "So blinded by your belief in the good Captain."

"You and I both know his innocence, _Vayne_," Reks growls back, trying to fight his way free. It's futile, of course, but he can't help but try. He forgoes all titles when addressing the Archadian because the man deserves none; he should be the one imprisoned in the dungeons.

Vayne shakes his head, chuckling lightly. "It seems your madness is much deeper than once thought," the Archadian comments before turning to the soldiers. "Free him."

Reks narrows his eyes. "What?"

Vayne focuses back to him. "The rumours, of course, would not reach you," he explains. "But one of your fellow soldiers has spread that you were so shocked by the Captain's betrayal that you've created this complex scenario almost worthy of a mummer's play. As such, it matters not whether you walk free, for all of Rabanastre think you mad by shock and betrayal."

The man says it so calmly but Reks knows what that implies. They'll think him mad, untrustworthy, and unreliable. He won't be able to hold a job, or retain his network of information; he'll be back where he started.

Vayne Solidor has ruined his life for the second time.

Gria is the one that picks him up once he stumbles out of Nalbina Fortress. He is grim-faced as Reks glares at him.

"You're the one that spread the rumour," he hisses, trying to walk off on his own. But he is so weak, and Gria is so much stronger, healthier, and the man supports him as they walk towards the caravans.

Gria does not look regretful or sorry; his mouth tightens at the corners as he answers, "It was the only way to save you."


	3. Prologue Part 3-Kindred

_Rabanastre, Year 704 Old Valendian_

When Reks goes to his house in Lowtown, he expects the worst, so he is surprised to find Moniq there, his house still in order.

"Moniq," Reks says, standing by the door, wondering what the Bangaa is thinking.

"I kept your house safe," she says, smoothing down the front of her work apron. "But Reks, do you need to talk to someone? I know a mind-"

"I'm not crazy," Reks replies sharply, before sighing. "I'm sorry Moniq. But I'm not. I know you're just worried. But please believe me, I'm fine. I'm not crazy."

Moniq meets his eyes and stares deeply into them. He doesn't know what she finds but she nods at him, as though satisfied. "I believe you more than I believe half the words that come from those _imperials_," she comments, hunkering past him to the door. "And if you think it's not Basch, then it's not Basch."

Reks is stunned silent; he never expected anyone to take his side, not even Gria had done so. But he had forgotten how well Moniq is at reading people.

"Thank you," he says, smiling for the first time since his discharge from Nalbina Dungeon.

"But don't expect me to be vocal about it! I'm not going to a dungeon for that hume!"

* * *

Archadia takes over Dalmasca without resistance; they simply come in one day and ousts most of the Dalmascan Royalty from government posts. The rent skyrockets for locations in the city proper and many merchants are forced under to Lowtown to conduct business while most nobles flee the city to Rozarria and other free countries.

Though House Solidor's insignia now line the streets, life stays much the same for middle and lower class Rabanastrers. They still avoid the guards, now changed from uniforms of leather to armours of steel, and they still try to elk out a living while ignoring the political situation around them.

Reks' life also remains surprisingly the same as before. Most of Rabanastre cannot connect the mad soldier to him and he suffers no repercussions from his prison sentence when securing marks; though kingdoms rise and fall, eradicating monsters is an occupation that persists as long as Ivalice stands.

And as he suspected, his network is now broken but that has more to do with the fact that most of the people he talked to are dead than his "mental instability".

The only thing Reks has to deal with are the pitying looks of some people, like Penelo and Tomaj, but most of his colleagues know better than to ask him about it.

* * *

It is an open secret amongst streetears that a fledging resistance operates in the Northern portion of Lowtown, in a small warehouse. Reks doesn't particularly care to join it, though they say that most of the men who took part in King Raminas' failed rescue have joined; he doesn't like how they are willing to turn their back on someone that was known to be the most loyal to the king, even more so than Captain Azelas.

Reks visits once and only once, to give Gria Valeblossom dew for his brother's desert fever. While he passes the vial to his friend, he feels the accusing eyes of the other Resistance members on him but no one is brave enough to say anything. When Captain Azelas comes in though, it leads to a disastrous conversation; Azelas claims that he is betraying Dalmasca by not joining and Reks tells him that more harm will come to Dalmasca if they fight.

It ends with Captain Azelas boxing him in the ear and calling him unfit to hold any blade and Reks hissing about how easily Vossler forgets loyalty, of how the Captain thinks it's easy to sway a heart.

Reks leaves the hall with a grim frown on his face, ignoring how his torture scars seem to twinge at Vossler's words.

* * *

Reks loses one of his earrings. It happens on a hunt; the mark manages to cuff the side of his face, ripping the piercing he had on his right ear. He doesn't notice until he's returned to the camp and gotten his reward.

Reks spends hours backtracking, crawling around the Nam-Yensa Sandsea, looking for a faint glint of metal. Once night comes and it becomes too dark to even see his hands, he gives up, digging his fingernails into his neck to vent his frustration.

He resolves not to make the same mistake again. Reks asks Moniq to turn the remaining earring into a ring and to make it tight enough that it'll be almost impossible to pull off. The Bangaa mutters to herself but does what he requests, making sure that the ring doesn't slip off his middle finger.

"You need to learn how to deal with losses better," she says, in her blunt way.

"I am dealing with it," Reks replies, rolling the ring around his finger. It'll never come off now, not unless someone cut it off.

"No," she comments with a shake of her head as he is leaving the workshop. Moniq always needs to get the last word. "You're acting like a crazy person, is what you are doing."

* * *

_Dalmasca Estersand, Year 704 Old Valendian_

Reks narrows his eyes when he notices someone encroaching on his mark. The man is struggling, though it is obvious he's had training. His armour is not exactly the best, and he hides his face behind a pale headscarf.

"Damn," Reks hisses. He had wanted to wait until the Greeden was sleeping to attack but with the man there, it isn't an option; he won't let someone die for a mark.

"Idiot," Reks mutters to the struggling man before jumping from his vantage point of the tree. He dispels the gator's protective barrier, unsheathing his blade as the monster's focus shifts to him. Reks casts cure on the other man and lifts his sword to attack the Greeden's eyes, to blind it.

The battle is surprisingly easy after Greeden loses its sight; the warrior attacks with efficient movements and between the two of them, the mark stands no chance. Once the beast goes down, Reks turns and glares at the new comer.

"What the hell were you doing?" he growls, keeping his sword at his side. "You can't just trespass onto other people's Marks! You could have died; ill-prepared as you are!"

The man stands tall in response, pale eyes meeting his, though not in challenge. "My apologies," he says, deep voice accented with a slight Nabradian tint. "I fear that it was not my intention to _trespass_ onto your mark. The beast attacked me quite suddenly that I had to defend."

"Oh," Reks replies, feeling embarrassed by his strong animosity. "Sorry."

He turns to Greeden and begins to cut the blood wool from the gator to avoid looking at the stranger. "Well, no harm done then," Reks comments, pocketing the wool. The next part will be a pain, trying to get a scale as proof of the Greeden's death.

A Nabradian, probably a noble one at that; Reks wonders why someone like that is not far out in Rozzaria, hiding.

Reks feels the man's eyes scanning him, glancing at his armour, at his weapons. "Does hunting offer a lot of monetary compensation?" the man asks, crouching beside Reks to watch him work.

"Depends," Reks replies, wiping his hands on the Greeden's furry body to get rid of the blood. "Good fighters make a lot. Are you a good fighter?"

"You saw my skills, why don't you tell me?" the man says, eyes crinkling as he smiles under the scarf.

"Then you'd make more money as a swordhand," Reks comments, stretching his arms in front of him.

The man sighs, staring up at the cloudless Dalmascan sky. "To do what others expect of me. To follow the roles set out by others' values. It is not something I want to do anymore," he admits, meeting Reks' eyes. "Hunters are a bit freer, yes? I should like to learn, how to become one."

Reks looks at the man and sees his weak weapon and his haphazard armour and it reminds him of himself when he first started. Nabradia has fallen; this man is trying to make a living, just like everyone else.

"Sure," Reks says with a nod. "Let's first get the reward for this hunt and I'll show you the ropes."

"Great!" the man says with a relieved laugh. "I am Raze."

"Raze?" Reks asks before laughing. "Like, you raze something to the ground, _Raze_?"

"Yes," Raze replies, chuckling along. "It is quite an odd name, I suppose."

"I don't have any right to say anything," he comments lightly. "After all, my name is Reks."

Raze tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "Reks?"

Reks tenses and stiffly turns away. "If you don't want my help, I can still direct you to someone that can help you become a hunter. Just go talk to Toma-"

Raze grabs his arm, making Reks face him. "I did not mean any offense!" the Nabradian says, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "It's just…I've been trying to find you."

"What?" Reks hisses, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Because…Because," Raze stumbles. "Because, you're right; Captain Vossler is _wrong_. Captain Basch would never kill the king, this I know."

"And," Raze continues, gazing at him with camaraderie in his pale eyes. "I've been trying to find someone that knew this too. I know it's impossible to want to change anything but I just wanted to meet someone that understood."

Reks chuckles and passes a hand through his silver hair. Because, how long had he looked for someone that also believed in Captain Basch? Someone who truly did, not like Moniq who took his word but didn't know the Captain personally enough to clearly see?

"Before we get too emotional," Reks says. "We'd better get the reward. We'll talk as we go to Rabanastre."

* * *

Raze is a former member of the Nabradian forces that had fallen in Nalbina; he managed to survive thanks to the help of a nomadic tribe in the Estersands. He talks about Basch's bravery in Nalbina and how the Prince had trusted the Captain.

"The man's the embodiment of honour," Raze says. "He wouldn't turn his back on the king this way."

Reks nods but doesn't mention how he knew, for that would bring too much painful memories.

* * *

They sell the blood wool for a high price and Raze tilts his head as they leave the Bazaar.

"I never knew that's where blood wool came from," he comments to himself.

"You must have been a nob, to be able to even afford cloth from blood wool," Reks replies with raised brow.

"A what?"

"A nob. You know, a _noble_," Reks says. "That proves it, since you don't even know what a nob means."

"My family wasn't that high up," Raze mutters, crossing his arms. "Nob. That's not even a real word!"

Reks laughs, shaking his head. Someone that can keep calm in most situations and is able to float past jibes and small insults was useful.

Raze will be a good hunting partner.

* * *

After getting the reward for the Greeden hunt, Reks takes Raze to Tomaj and secures a clan primer for him as well as getting a hunt that Reks had been unconfident in finishing on his own. Then, despite Raze's insistence, Reks uses the reward gil to get some suitable armour and weapons for the Nabradian.

"I can't have my hunting partner weighing me down with weak weapons," Reks says sharply, pushing a sword at him. "Besides, this is an investment; I expect you to pay me back."

Raze's reply is to put the sword back and pick up a Javelin. "I'm more of a spear guy, myself."

Reks simply scoffs and tells him to meet him at the fountain in the morning.

"You're trusting me? To just come?" Raze asks, tilting his head.

"I've always been good at reading people," Reks answers with a shrug. "Besides, you won't be able to finish the hunt without me anyways."

* * *

The first couple of marks are filled with stilted conversation and awkward attack formations. Reks is unused to having to defend another person and is sometimes thrown off by a potion being tossed his way just when he is about to cast white magick on himself. Likewise, they have difficulties finding a topic they can speak on; based on mutual agreement, they both steer clear of the war but there are other subjects for contention. Family is a topic that is sensitive to both of them and Reks clams up when asked about his parents and Raze becomes moody and haughty when asked about his. Raze also refuses to remove the headscarf, being unbelievably stubborn even when it is to heal the head wound he got.

However, they eventually learn each other's quirks and accommodate it. Raze learns to stop questioning Reks' desire to squat on the streets to sleep, instead of using the inn and Reks simply rolls his eyes at Raze's obsessive desire to wake early enough to hide his face. Reks pokes fun at him and asks if the Nabradian is hiding some sort of strange birth mark on his face.

It is a good system; a more efficient system. Reks beams as he watches the gil chests fill in his secret room; soon, he'll have enough to confront her.

* * *

It is five months into their alliance when Raze slips off his headscarf; they are sitting by a small fire, the blue light of the protective crystal giving the fire a strange glow. Though he shouldn't, the first thing Reks notices is that Raze is very handsome, with pale blond hair that is a shade lighter than Vaan's. It's a face Reks recognizes, though he can't recall from where.

"I thought you were never showing anyone your face," Reks asks with raised brow, ripping off a strip of jerky with his teeth. Behind them the hide of the mark is stretched between four poles, the skin drying in the hot climate.

Raze smiles at him, and it is so much better to see his whole face brighten instead of seeing just the eyes crinkle.

"I trust you," the Nabradian states. "I feel like I don't have to hide with you."

"I don't know why you needed to hide," Reks comments, trying to keep the conversation light. Having someone's trust is a heavy burden and the last person that had trusted him had done so in vain. "I mean, you have a fine face. Not a single scar or burn mark or anything."

Raze laughs in reply, tilting his head up to face the night sky. "If it is any consolation," he says with a wink. "You, too, have a fine face."

* * *

After that night, something shifts in their relationship. There is a deep-found trust between them that Reks hasn't had in a long time, not since Vaan. They begin sharing stories about before the war, of their families. Raze focuses on his brothers when he speaks, and it is obvious that he hadn't had a close relationship with his parents. Reks speaks about travelling with his father and learning magick from his mother; he never speaks of Vaan.

Reks brings Raze into Clan Centurio, fully supported by Tomaj and Monid. The Nabradian gets Montablanc's acceptance with ease, since so many of his clan members support him.

Raze shows his face to no one except for Reks, and his heart feels warm whenever Raze smiles at him. He's the only one privy to such beauty.

It's overwhelming, this feeling in his heart, but for some odd reason Reks doesn't want it to stop.

* * *

_Henne Mines, Year 705 Old Valendian_

Reks wakes to chapped lips on his own and a tingling of white magick on his skin. Raze never uses magick; he isn't proficient in it and he always complains that to expect him to use magick is to want him to fail.

"Raze?" he coughs out, his vision still blurry. The Nabradian's face is a vague shape above him.

Raze laughs before leaning down to kiss him again. "I thought I lost you," he mutters against his neck. "We were out of potions and that damned snake got you and I didn't know what to do and by the gods, my shit magick was enough."

He lifts Reks as carefully as he can, though Reks still flinches at the shaking.

"Don't worry," Raze continues, breathing heavily. "We're almost out. We'll get to the Garifs, and they'll help."

"Did, did we get the mark?" Reks asks, tilting his head back to squint up at Raze.

Raze replies with a laugh, a hitch hysterical. "You're wounded from your side and you ask whether we killed it or not?!" he says, shaking his head. "Yes, we did. We killed it."

"Good," Reks mumbles out, eyes drooping. Raze continues to talk but it fades into white noise.

* * *

The Garif manage to neutralize the serpent's poison and Reks spends the next few days in one of the tents they have provided. Tagamu, who posted the bill for the snake in the first place, thank them for ridding the beast and offer them the tent until Reks is well enough to travel back.

The first few days are a blur but Reks remembers Raze's voice, murmuring soothing words to him as he fights the poison. When he is well enough to remain conscious but not enough to actually move, Raze brings him food and drink as devotedly as any husband.

Reks remembers the kiss, though the rest of their way back to the village is hazy. And he waits and waits for Raze to mention it but the Nabradian steers clear from the topic.

Finally, when Raze makes no move to bring it up, Reks breaches the subject with the finesse of a Saurian moving through Golmore jungle.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Reks asks sharply, crossing his arms in front of him.

Yes…The finesse of a Saurian indeed.

Raze blinks owlish at him. "I-"

"And don't try to deny it," Reks cuts in. "I may have been suffering from bloodloss but I know I didn't dream that."

The Nabradian shakes his head and sits next to him before grasping his hand. He sighs and smiles at him, though there is a furrow in his brows. "I didn't want you to find out like this," Raze admits. "In fact, I wasn't going tell you, ever! But-" here, Raze bites his lips and pushes his hand through his hair. "You were hurt and then I realized that I might not get another chance, and… Well, you can completely forget I did this and I will never do that again. In fact, I would be ever grateful if you just-"

"You're rambling," Reks comments as he raises his brows. He tilts his head to make Raze meet his eyes. "And, you still haven't told me why."

The other hunter gasps out a scoff, giving him a smile that looks pained. "Isn't it obvious? It's because I love you," Raze mutters, before looking hopefully up at him. "And, do you?"

Love? Reks freezes, furrowing his brows. Does he love Raze? Is that the warm feeling he feels whenever Raze smiles at him? Is that what the urge to smile idiotically whenever Raze laughs is? It's different from when he thinks of Vaan; the unconditional desire to see his brother safe and sound. The need for his brother to be near. Different from the love he feels for Moniq and Monid and Rori and Penelo.

_So… This is love. Love minstrels sing to the high heavens about._

Raze looks away, laughing depreciatingly. "You don't have to say anything, I understand if-"

"Yes," Reks cuts in with a nod, leaning in to kiss him. "Yes. I love you as well."

Raze's pale blue eyes light up and he places both his hands on each side of Reks' face, bringing him in for a kiss.

Reks stops him by sliding a hand between them. "But, if we are to start this," he says. "There can be no more secrets. I don't want to start something with our burdens holding us back. I want you to tell me about you; no more hiding. I need you to trust me."

Raze bites his lips before nodding determinately. "It goes both ways Reks," he answers. "I will trust you, but I want you to do the same for me."

"…When we return to Rabanastre, we'll talk," Reks promises though a part of him regrets asking. He isn't sure if he's ready to let anyone in about Vaan.

But to share his burden will lift the mountain that has lain on his shoulders for the last three years.

* * *

Reks casts the last silence spell on the walls, making sure that no one will be able to hear their conversation. They sit facing each other across Raze's dining table; the other hunter's home is in the city proper, though still cheap since it is by the Aerodome.

"So," Reks says, gripping the tea Raze passes him. "Why do you hide your face?"

"I must confess, I have not been completely honest with you," he replies before straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. "My name is not Raze. I am Rasler Heios Nabradia. Third Prince to the kingdom of Nabradia and… Heir to a fallen nation."

Raz-no, _Rasler_ rubs the back of his neck, smiling tightly. "Does this change anything?" he asks, placing his folded hands on the table.

"Why would it?" Reks says, sipping the tea. It's chamomile, used for calming people. "Other than your name, you have never pretended to be another. You didn't hide your noble birth and you never bared any falsehood towards me."

He reaches over and places a hand over Rasler's. "Raze or Rasler, your name doesn't change who you are to me," Reks adds with a smile.

"But I abandoned my post," Rasler admits grimly. "And I hid the fact I lived; do you not think me a coward for doing this?"

"If you had come forward, they would have called you an imposter," Reks says, shaking his head. "You would have been killed right away. What good would it have done to throw your life away needlessly?"

Rasler laughs and intertwines their fingers. "Reks, you truly are a gift of the gods."

They stay in peaceful silence for several minutes, sipping their tea. Reks spends this time digesting what he's heard. Raze is Rasler, a _prince._How in Ivalice did he get involved with someone like that?! Would they be able to survive despite their class differences?

"May I ask you a question?" Reks says, and when Rasler nods, he continues his query. "Why did you not go to the resistance when you returned to Rabanastre?"

Rasler stares out his window, where the city bustles below them. "I was going to," he answers, his eyes distant. "But then I heard the way they spoke of Basch and suddenly, I no longer trusted them. You see, Basch was the one that saved my life and fearing that I'd be used as a puppet, he created a cadaver to mimic me, which would keep the Archadians from assassinating me while I was still injured. That sort of loyalty to Dalmasca, do you think it can be so easily erased?"

Reks shakes his head. "No, I don't. In fact, that is why I couldn't join either. Captain Azelas and I had a disagreement over that exact issue."

"That's where I heard of you. They called you mad, but to me, you were the only one with a grain of sense in him."

They join in laughter, Reks covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his snicker.

"May I ask about you?" Rasler says, once their chuckles have died down, his face serious once more.

"It'd be very unfair for you if I said no," Reks answers with a shrug.

Rasler runs his thumb up and down the top of Reks' hand, trying to sooth him. "Why do you collect gil so?"

Reks freezes, tensing. "Maybe I'm just a miser?" he says, dodging the question. Reks knows he should be honest but it is so difficult.

Rasler shakes his head. "If you truly were one, you'd never have given me the coin to buy my armour," he says firmly. "You wouldn't have helped Moniq buy back her workshop when the Imperials passed the law to double prices of property for non-humes. There's something different about the way you hoard it…. A kind of hasty desperation, if I had to describe it. Why?"

He promised and Reks is not a person that backs out on a promise. But, he doesn't know how to explain, how to do so without screaming, without bursting into rage.

Reks twists the ring around his middle finger, watching as the blue jewel glints in the sunlight. "My brother is somewhere far away," he explains, staring down at the ring. "And to get him back, I need a lot of money."

Rasler nods but still looks confused. "Do you owe people money?"

Reks bites back a smile and shakes his head. "It's not like that," he replies. "It's more like… I need to have enough money so that not even the richest man in the world would refuse me. Do… Do you understand?"

Rasler rubs his lip, scraping his teeth against a fingernail. "I don't," he admits. "But maybe I can learn to, if you tell me more."

Reks pushes a hand through his hair, sips his tea and resolves himself to recount the past. It is difficult, talking about Vaan, because he's kept all those memories to himself for three years, kept Vaan to himself. At the same time though, it is liberating, to be able to share the good times they had, to remember Vaan as more than just the brother he's lost. When he gets to Vayne Solidor, Reks contemplates removing his name entirely but stops himself; they promised to keep nothing between them.

Rasler's eyebrows rise higher to his hairline the further along Reks gets with his story and by the end of it, the Nabradian is frowning, arms crossed in front of him.

"What are you thinking?" Reks asks, reaching across the table to tap the prince's hand.

Rasler leans in for a quick peck. "Just that, you are stronger than men twice your age," he replies with a smile. "But, I don't want you to raise gil at the expense of your own safety. As a younger brother, I can tell you that we too worry about our elder brothers, more than you think."

* * *

This year, when Reks visits Mount Bur-Omisace, he brings more Sunstones. He passes them out to the acolytes to use as a source of light for growing food.

When he plants the lilies, he whispers about Rasler and can't help the smile that stretches across his face.

He'll never bring Rasler here; this is something private that Reks wants to do alone, but talking to the plants about the Nabradian makes Reks' heart warm.

* * *

They move into Reks' house in Lowtown; the secret room he's made is too perfect to leave behind and Rasler agrees that since they aren't at home that often, they shouldn't have two houses anyways. Reks still calls him "Raze" when they are outside but when they are out hunting, or in the privacy of their home, he calls him Rasler, and the prince laughs and whispers how he's dreamed of Reks calling him by his real name.

It is wonderful, having to wake up to warmth next to him. To have someone to talk to during meals. Then he thinks about how Vaan doesn't have that chance, will never get that chance, until he is free from Vayne Solidor, and soon Reks feels guilty for being happy.

Rasler tells him that he shouldn't feel guilty for being content; Vaan would want him to be so.

But he can't help the shame that gnaws through him whenever he thinks about Vaan.

* * *

Archades is a city strange and foreign to both of them, and they huddle close together as they attempt to avoid as many people as they can. Reks clutches his satchel tightly, the bag heavy with gil; they exchanged most of the gil into gilians, a higher value coin that makes it much easier to carry more value at once. Rasler fidgets with his headscarf, making sure it hides his whole face.

"I doubt they'd recognize you," Reks comments, squeezing his hand to reassure him. "I mean, I saw your wedding and I didn't even recognize you."

"You weren't looking very carefully though," Rasler replies with a scoff. "Come on, let's get going. How do you even plan on talking to Lady Galbana anyways?"

Reks tilted his head at the Nabradian. "Who's Lady Galbana?" he mutters with narrowed eyes.

"The Lady you are _trying to see_!" Rasler says back, stammering. "Where are you getting your information from?! How could you not know her name?!"

"Like her name is actually important," Reks comments with a scoff, though he does flush with embarrassment. "There probably only one Dalmascan woman amongst the Archadian Elite anyways."

"I'm starting to wonder if he's actually there," Rasler mutters with a long look.

"He is," Reks answers sharply. "We just need to get there and talk to her."

When they arrive at the taxi station to ride to Tsenoble, where the nobles live, they are blocked by a blank-faced guard.

"Chop?" the guard asks, not even a twitch of amusement on his face.

Reks and Rasler shares a looks of bewilderment. "What in Ivalice is a _chop_?" Reks hisses, narrowing his eyes at him while Rasler glares at the guard through his headscarf.

"No chop, no entrance to Tsenoble," the guard replies blandly. "Or, you _could_ pay 1 000 000 gil."

Rasler chokes a cough of disbelief. "1 000 000 gil?!" he growls. "What does your taxi run on? Gold and ambrosia?!"

Reks grabs a hold of Rasler's arm before the Nabradian can do something as foolhardy as attacking the guard. "Let's just go," he mutters with a sigh. There is no way they can afford to pay the guard _and_ meet the woman.

As they meander through the Imperial city, Reks glares at the strange towers and pavilions with distrust. Rasler doesn't say anything, simply placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing, before leading the way back to the Aerodome.

"Wait, we might as well check out the shops while we're here," Reks says, trying to keep his voice light. "Maybe they can tell us about chops and maybe we can buy something. I heard Archades has some unique items to offer."

Rasler blinks in surprise but nods with a smile. It always astonishes him how strong Reks is; how Reks, who is burdened by so much, is still able to keep hope alive.

* * *

Rasler rummages through scrolls of magick while Reks speaks to a friendly Ardent, a migrant worker who seeks to get citizenship in Archades via Chops, about how chops even work. It's something the Nabradian is not really interested in, and besides that, people seem more wary when Rasler looms behind Reks.

The former prince pulls out random scrolls and scans them; he isn't proficient and he will never be proficient at magick, but he tries to find one that Reks can possibly use. It's actually quite unheard of that a male be that gifted in magicks.

He is brought out of his reverie when a small, furry hand grabs his wrist and pushes a round disk in his hand.

"What the-" Rasler hisses, trying to pull back, but the small hand is stronger than it looks. He glares down at his attacker, frowning when he sees a Nu-mou. "What are you doing?!"

The Nu-mou looks strange, kind of deranged, staring up at Rasler with dark eyes. "The medallion calls for you," he chants, as though possessed. "The power in Nabudis is yours; claim it, child of Nabradia."

Rasler tries to take his arm back and claws at the Nu-mou's hand with little success. "Let go," he snarls, blue eyes flashing. He doesn't want to hurt the small creature but if he doesn't let go, Rasler will have no choice but to do so.

Before he can do anything though, Reks rushes in, grabbing the Nu-mou's shoulder. The Nu-mou breaks out of his trance as Reks taps him, and he blinks with confusion, pulling his hand back gingerly.

"What's going on?" Reks asks, crossing his arms, looking between Rasler and the Nu-mou.

"I, I know not what came over me," the Nu-mou stammers. "I'm sorry."

"Think nothing of it," Rasler grunts, holding the round disk back. It is a silver-lined medallion, now that Rasler looks at it closely. "You kept trying to give this to me."

"I, I did?" the Nu-mou says. "…Yes, yes I did."

The Nu-mou bows lowly, and Rasler shares a look of bewilderment with Reks.

"Yes…I remember now," the Nu-mou says to himself. "Yes…That must be it… You must come with me to meet my teacher!"

"You are making no sense," Reks says, crouching to meet him at eye level. "Please explain to us."

"Oh! Yes, of course! How rude of me. I am Roh'Kenmu," the Nu-mou says with a bow. "My teacher Ma'Kleou had order myself and another disciple to find these medallions and bring them to him. However, if the gods themselves have willed that you-" he points to Rasler with expectation. "have this medallion, then you must be the hero spoken of to defeat the mighty power sealed in the bowels of Nabradia Fortress."

Rasler shakes his head sharply. "There is no power hidden in Verdpale Palace," he denies.

Roh'Kenmu blinks up at them. "But there is. The Nu-mou have been called every 50 years to reseal the power within," he explains. "The seal is about to break, but we've no power to enter the palace without getting attacked by foul beasts. I believe you will be the key to putting to rest this power permanently."

The Nu-mou fiddles with his staff. "Please sir, I implore you to come with me to see my master," he says.

"No," Rasler replies sharply. He had gone back once, to see if Nabradia could be rebuilt from the ashes of destruction. All he found was a land so ravaged by mist that no life would survive there. To go back and face the devastation his home has seen is too much for him to bear. "I have _no_plans on going to Nabudis."

He catches Reks' eyes and adds, "Besides, I've come on another errand. One of upmost importance."

Roh'Kenmu's face falls, but nods slowly. "I see," he says. "I shall be here for another two days, if you change your mind."

"Don't count on it," Rasler replies, leading Reks away.

* * *

"So, what did you find?" Rasler asks, trying to keep his voice light. Being away from the Nu-mou helps and being in the sun helps. "About the chops?"

"It'll take awhile," Reks replies, before tapping his hand on the sheath of his blade. "But, Ras-Raze, are you ok with just leaving like this? Roh'Kenmu said that the medallion was _calling_ for you. The power in the palace, it has something to do with you."

"It has nothing to do with me," Rasler shoots back, shaking his head. "I threw away that place when I left. Besides, we came to get your brother, remember?"

Reks smiles, though it doesn't meet his eyes. "Don't use Vaan as an excuse," he says. "What are you afraid of?"

When Rasler doesn't reply, Reks sighs and leads them to a bench that overlooks the lower pavilions of the city. As they sit side by side, Reks fiddles with his ring, staring down at it.

"You know, when I first lost Vaan, I avoided going to the Estersands as much as I could," Reks says, staring past the towering buildings to watch the open sky. "It was so painful to be there, to be surrounded by the place I lost my brother."

Reks faces him, squeezing Rasler's hand with his own. "But I realized, it's better to face it than to run from it. You can't run forever," he continues, tilting his head. "So, go; find out what's waiting for you down there in Nabradia Castle."

Rasler clenches his hands. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to admit it, but part of why he doesn't want to go is because he doesn't want to be alone. To go to his former home and to see the desolation there, it'll be a physical reminder that he is the last of Nabradian line.

He must have said it out loud because Reks smiles at him, radiant as the sun. "You won't be alone," he says. "I'll be with you; we'll face it together."

Rasler turns to face him. "But, what about Vaan? And the chops?" he asks. "And Lady Galbana?"

Reks wets his lips, biting them before facing the Nabradian with eyes filled with determination. "Vaan would want me to do this," he says with certainty. "He'd tell me that he's a survivor and that he can wait. My brother's like that, always thinking of others."

"Besides," Reks continues with a nod. "You came all this way for _me_. Came to the capital of the country that destroyed yours; I _want_ to do this, so that at least you can put your ghosts to rest."

* * *

They find Roh'Kenmu again in the magick shop and he is beyond delighted when they agree to go see his mentor. The three of them take an airship to Nalbina, much to Reks' displeasure; Rasler stifles a chuckle and Reks makes sure to glare at him in order to silence the Nabradian's laughter. From there, they ride chocobos past the Mosphoran Highwaste and through the Salikawoods.

They manage to keep Rasler's identity a secret, though sometimes Reks almost slips up on his name.

Rasler gets tenser the closer they get to Nabudis, so Reks tries to keep his calm by distracting him with little anecdotes he's collected over the years. At the entrance to Nabreus Deadlands, they free their chocobos and unsheathe their weapons. The monsters here, Reks heard, are much fiercer than others.

Roh'Kenmu's magick is a tremendous help as they navigate the densely misted area, trying to avoid fighting as much as possible. It is difficult, since many of the beasts cannot be detected until they are right in front of them. They take turns keeping watch, but instead of only one, two keep watch while one sleeps, resulting in them running on very little sleep.

Finally, they arrive at a small shrine-like structure, where two Nu-mou keep up a protective barrier against the undead.

"What is that?" Reks asks, nudging Rasler lightly. He casts white magick on the prince, who leans on his javelin as he walks.

"It is a shrine to Mitron," Rasler replies, his pace quickening as they get closer to the barrier. He slams his spear against the skull of what appears to be a former soldier, the armour rotted over time. "It was popular amongst the nomads of Nabradia, who still follow the old religion. They build these layered towers to symbolise that growth does not happen at once but in stagnated periods."

"You know a lot," Reks comments, beheading a corpse and wrinkling his nose at the smell. One would think he'd get used to the stench after all this time in the Deadlands but Reks couldn't ignore it no matter how much Roh'Kenmu told him to.

"One of the generals had been from the Mugala people," Rasler says. "They are the main nomadic tribe of Nabradia."

"Quickly! Jump into the field!" Roh'Kenmu shouts, and they slide into the barrier, though Roh'Kenmu's landing is not quite as graceful.

"Roh'Kenmu, who are these strangers?" the older Nu-mou asks. "Did you bring the medallion?"

"I did, Master Ma'Kleou, but more importantly," Roh'Kenmu replies. "This man, I believe he is the hero spoken of in our stories!"

"How can that be?" the other Nu-Mou says. "Roh'Kenmu, you are too ignorant!"

"It's true, Roh'Kenmou!" Roh'Kenmu argues, and Reks cannot believe the two disciples have the same sounding name, though Rasler nods along like they are completely different names. "The medallion reacted to him! They wanted him to have it!"

"Give it to me," Ma'Kleou orders and Roh'Kenmu nods and passes the medallion. The eldest Nu-mou pulls out another medallion with his free hand so that each hand holds a disk. The old Nu-mou walks towards Reks holding out the disks and Reks stops him with a raise of his hand.

"Roh'Kenmu was talking about him," he says, tilting his head at Rasler. Ma'Kleou hums in understanding and moves towards Rasler.

The old Nu-mou stops and everyone watches with trepidation as the medallions seem to shiver in Ma'Kleou's hands.

"Incredible," Ma'Kleou gasps out, narrowing his eyes at Rasler as though he's trying to see past his headscarf. "Who are you?"

"Just a son of Nabradia," Rasler replies. "Who is now a man without a home."

Ma'Kleou nods and walks up the steps of the shrine, followed by his two disciples. They watch from the bottom as the old Nu-mou places each medallion in an indent, then steps back. The three Nu-mou begin muttering in an old, forgotten language that neither Rasler nor Reks understand until an ancient magick erupts from the shrine and intertwines itself into the medallions.

With the ceremony finished, Ma'Kleou pulls out the two glowing medallions and also pulls out one from the centre indent that is still dark.

Ma'Kleou passes the disks to Rasler, nodding shallowly. "Young hume," he says. "The gods have willed it so. Go forth into the Necrohol that was once Verdpale Palace and seek within a power unmatched. Seal the beasts of Chaos so that all of Ivalice can be saved."

Rasler's throat constricts; this is too much, too much of a load. Did he not fail Ivalice the last time? Did he not fail to keep Dalmasca and Nabradia independent and free? His hands float over the disks, not quite willing to touch them.

Just when he thinks it is getting too much, Rasler feels the warmth of Reks' hand on his shoulder. He is _not_alone; there are not soldiers blindly following him to their deaths. Reks will shoulder his burden, the same way he shoulders Reks'.

Rasler calms himself with an exhale and picks up the medallions. "That I be considered worthy," he recites, remembering the words he said to King Raminas before Nalbina.

The pendants shake in his hands, as though excited for what is to come.

* * *

They help the Nu-mou to leave the Nabreus Deadlands before using a teleportation crystal to get to Rabanastre. Reks places the gil he took to Archades back into his storage before going to buy new armour and sundries.

"You do not have to do this," Rasler says as they prepare for the trip to the Necrohol of Nabudis. "It is my mission to defeat these creatures and my mission alone."

Reks punches him in the arm. "Don't be stupid," he replies. "We are doing together. Seriously, like you could survive without anyone there to heal you with magick."

"But Vaan-"

"I'd want him to do the same thing if he was faced with the same choices I had."

* * *

Rasler releases a shaky sigh when they slip into the ruins of Verdpale Palace. Parts of the walls lie in shambles, and some areas are flooded from the lake water.

Reks squeezes the Nabradian's shoulder. "Come on," he says. "We should get moving."

"I grew up here," Rasler murmurs, smiling bitterly at the ruin. "This place used to house over 800 people."

The Nabradian squares his shoulders. "Sorry. Let's get going."

Reks nods but elbows Rasler as he goes. "There is no shame in reminiscing," he says. "There is nothing to apologize for… But, if possible, let's reminisce in a safer area."

* * *

The medal of Bravery opens into a chamber where a mighty beast lays waiting. But with several Holy motes they found along the way there, it is an easy victory.

The medallion of Love forces them to fight a tiny bunny with the strength of the fiercest wyrm. This creature stronger than the Humbaba, but still easily won.

The darken medallion lights up when they've defeated both creatures.

"I don't know why the Nu-mou thought those things would destroy Ivalice," Reks comments, sipping his potion as they make their way to the final chamber.

Rasler looks thoughtfully at the last medallion. "Perhaps those other two were only a fraction of the power, and the real threat is in the last chamber," he says, turning the disk this way and that. The crest on the medal makes Rasler widen his eyes. "This… This is my family's crest!"

"It's in your castle, that kind of makes sense doesn't it?" Reks says, raising his brows.

"Well, yes, but I thought the Nu-mou were lying when they said my family knew about this," Rasler admits with thoughtful hum. "Well, regardless, it is what it is."

Though they talk about the last monster being stronger, Reks is pretty confident they'll be ok.

That is until they see the enemy.

"Chaos," Rasler gasps out, face paling when he sees the strange creature.

It is green with armour like skin, sitting in lotus-position upon an urn. Flanking it levitates two large structures that each hold two mighty blades.

"It's what?" Reks asks, eyes not leaving the creature. It is a man-made beast? Or some sort of ancient machine? Its skin is covered in runes the move across it like a living tattoo.

"Chaos, Walker of the Wheel," Rasler replies. "The Mugala speaks of a being created by the Gods, like Mitron, but one that sought to rally against its creator."

"Wait, they expect us to kill a god?!" Reks shouts out, bewildered.

"Chaos is no god, he has been created like us, like humes," Rasler says, lifting his spear. "We can win."

Reks prepares himself by positioning for battle. "Yes, but Chaos was created to rule over humes right?" he mutters. "Well, whatever."

Reks, always the faster of the two, manages to dart between the rotating blades and slashes at Chaos.

It has absolutely no effect and he pulls Rasler back just as the Esper releases a typhoon-like attack that blasts fierce winds at them.

"Weapons have no effect!" he yells out to Rasler. "We have to use magick or technick!"

Rasler looks bewilderedly at him. "What?!" he calls back. "Damn!"

Reks casts haste on both of them, to ensure they will both be able to dodge the Esper's attack. Then he uses Telekinesis on the Esper and hopes that it will do something.

It does, thankfully, and Reks continues to use Telekinesis on Chaos.

"Reks!" Rasler calls out, narrowly dodging a flying blade. "I need you to get ready to cure me! I'm going to use Souleater!"

Reks resists the urge to throw his blade at his partner; only Rasler would think to use a dangerous technick that uses one's own life to damage an enemy.

"Just use Telekinesis!" Reks calls back, throwing some white magick regardless.

"It's too weak! I'm going to use Souleater!" Rasler replies stubbornly and begins to cast the technick.

"That hardheaded idiot," Reks mutters, though he begins focusing his magick to cast curaga on Rasler. The Nabradian is right though, Souleater does more damage, and Rasler has better strength and vitality that is better suited for Souleater than Reks.

With Rasler using Souleater and Reks healing him after every attack, they are able to defeat Chaos, but just barely. It isn't easy and a couple of times Reks fears for their lives, but they manage to defeat him after what feels like days of nonstop battling. By the end of it, Reks' body burns from magick overuse and Rasler sways from the consequences of using Souleater. Reks runs towards the prince and gets the stubborn Nabradian to help steady him.

When Chaos falls, there is a great gust of wind, and for a second Reks thinks that it is coming in for another attack. Instead, the four blades that had been flying to attack them clatter to the ground and the structures flanking Chaos crash to the floor. There is a burst of pale green light that envelopes Chaos, which then flows down towards them and surrounds Rasler. Rasler gasps a choked breath and collapses and Reks' world freezes.

* * *

_Rasler Heios Nabradia_. A deep rumble roars in his ears.

Rasler wakes in a strange dimension, where white surrounds him and nothing exists.

"Where am I? Where's Reks?" he calls out to the voice. "Show yourself!"

Chaos appears before him and Rasler tries to grab his weapon, only to realize that he has nothing on him.

_Rasler Heios Nabradia_. The voice says once more, and Rasler realizes it is coming from the Esper itself. _It has been many years since a scion of your bloodline bested me in combat._

"What do you mean?" he asks. "Did you lose to my ancestor?"

_Your forefather, Helios Sucard Nabradia, bested me in combat in his youth._The Esper states. _Yet, he feared his descendent would not have the power to defeat me, and so had me sealed by the Nu-mou, to keep me hidden until a worthy heir came forth._

Rasler furrows his brows but nods nonetheless. "Well, what now?" he asks. "What happens?"

_Son of Nabradia, you have bested I, Walker of the Wheel, and now I am bound in servitude to you_. Chaos rumbles. _I also tell you to seek the other power Helios Sucard Nabradia left for the one mighty enough to bind me. Seek you the door hidden to all but those touched by mist; those with the power to bend the gods to their will. Seek you-_

"Rasler!" Reks' voice shatters through what Chaos says and Rasler is pulled back from the strange world of nothingness.

* * *

Rasler's pale lashes flutters and he blinks blearily up at him. "Reks?"

Reks can't help the grin that comes through, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "You idiot," he says. "Don't do that again."

"What did I do?" Rasler asks as Reks helps him sit up.

"We defeated Chaos… and then you collapsed," Reks explains. "Do you remember?"

Rasler feels a prickling on his left wrist and when he pulls back his sleeve, he finds a dark marking on the inside of his wrist, the glyph of Chaos.

"Yes," Rasler says, standing with sudden vigour. "Chaos has become bound to me."

"That's good, right?" Reks says, standing as well. He puts a hand on Rasler's wrist and runs his finger on the new mark. "Is this proof you won?"

Rasler closes his eyes and hears Chaos' deep voice. _Your partner is strong. Well chosen, scion of Helios._

"Yes," the Nabradian says with a smile. "And he thinks you are strong and that I'm lucky to have you."

"He better," Reks says with a shrug. "I helped defeat him, after all."

"There's something else," Rasler says, darting his head around the chamber. "Chaos said my ancestor, King Helios Sucard Nabradia, the first king of Nabradia, left something else."

"I hope it's not another Esper," Reks mutters, watching as Rasler looks at each of the walls. One obviously catches the Nabradian's attention. "What are you doing?"

Rasler points at a wall. "There," he says. "There is a door."

"All I see is a wall."

"It's there. That's where it is," Rasler says firmly, complete confidence in his choice.

Reks sighs but follows along as they walk to the end of the chamber, where a large mosaic depicts Nabradia's crest. Rasler lifts his left hand and places it on the wall and the mosaic lights up in the same pale light Chaos had been surrounded by.

The crest cleaves in half and the two parts of the wall slide away, revealing a javelin like weapon sealed behind it. The weapon floats down into Rasler's hand, where it fits perfectly.

Rasler stares with wide eyes, unable to help the astonished gasp he makes.

"What is it?" Reks asks, tilting his head.

Rasler turns to face him. "This is the Zodiac Spear," the prince says, awe still in his voice. "They say Helios, the first king of Nabradia, and King Raithwall's grandson, had wielded a spear as light as a feather but as strong as platinum. It had been forged from a rare ore called Orichalcum that allowed for such qualities."

"The Zodiac Spear is that weapon," Rasler finishes, passing the weapon to Reks. "See, feel how light it is."

Reks wraps his hand around the spear and lifts, shocked by its weight. Yet, despite its lightness, there is obvious power that radiates. He passes it back to Rasler, smiling at him. "It is a fine weapon," he says. "Worthy of you."

Rasler blinks in surprise. "I would have never been able to do this without you."

Reks presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "Yes. But in the end, it was you who said that Chaos was possible to defeat," he comments, tilting his head for a kiss. "And it was you that the medallions found worthy."

"So, do you see Rasler?" Reks continues, smiling at him. "Even the gods know that you are no coward. The fact Nabudis fell is not your fault; no matter how well you led your troops, the explosion would have still happened."

Rasler continues to remain in silence, his shoulders tense. He stares down at the spear in his hands, what it means to hold it.

"Let go of the guilt that burdens you," Reks says, wrapping his arms around Rasler. "You are _not_alone. We can face it together. And though Nabradia may not be physically there, it lives in your actions and in your heart."

Rasler finally lifts his eyes to meet Reks' and Reks is proud to see the heaviness in his eyes is gone.

"Do Nabradia proud."

"With you here, I will be able to."


	4. Chapter 1-A Treasure

_Mosphoran Highwaste, Year 706 Old Valendian_

There is a twitch in his shoulder as Reks groans awake. "God, Exodus is an angry old man," he mutters as Rasler helps him up.

"You are well?" Rasler asks, steadying Reks. He manoeuvres them towards a boulder, where Reks can lean on the rock face. It is draining to gain an esper glyph, and Reks had also suffered the most in this battle since they couldn't use any items for this fight. They had to rely solely on Reks' healing. Exodus had the strangest ability to neutralize any item; potion had as much effect as water in this fight.

"I'm fine," Reks says with a nod. "But, how do you handle Chaos yelling at you all the time?"

Rasler shrugs. "Chaos has always been quiet," he replies. "But generally, I believe I have learned to ignore it. He's acceptable conversation when there's no one else though."

"But never forget," Rasler adds, rubbing the esper glyph on his own wrist. "They have no attachment to Ivalice, and care nothing for the ways for humes. No matter how friendly, how _human_ they seem when speaking, remember that they'd let the world burn for fun."

Reks nods. "Yea," he trails off and looks at the view the cliff offers them, trying to ignore the hissing of vengeance.

* * *

They stumble down the mountain, Reks still leaning heavily on Rasler.

"I swear, I think Chaos is trying to kill you," Reks says with a shake of his head. His right shoulder blade twitches in response, where the glyph of Exodus is branded on him. "Some treasure….."

Rasler chuckles, eyes bright with adrenaline. "Nothing of the sort. He thought you worthy enough to bind Exodus," the Nabradian explains, pushing the lower part of his headscarf down to peck Reks' cheek. "He says you more than any king deserved the powers of a mist-walker."

"Chaos, that flatterer," Reks says with a laugh. "I don't know what he's trying to do, but it won't work."

"Personally, I think he was just lonely," Rasler comments lightly. "And he wanted someone to talk to."

Reks raises a brow before punching the Nabradian's shoulder. "Oh, about that. Chaos is such a liar," Reks grumbles, fidgeting with his sleeves. He wears clothes that cover his whole body, as opposed to the usual Dalmascan style, mostly to hide the scars. "He said there was a treasure. I didn't even make any gil _and_ I almost died!"

_The Wheel-Walker did not lie_, _young hume_. Exodus comments in his bellowing voice. For one so old, he certainly has a boisterous voice. _It is simply foolishness on your part that you believed him at face value._

Reks's mouth twitches at the respond. "Seriously, why now?" he asks Rasler, healing up the last of his injuries as they make it to the bottom of the cliff.

"I seriously believe that Chaos was just lonely," Rasler replies, finishing the last knot on his headscarf. "I think the espers can talk to each other if they are near enough, so that's why I think he wanted you to get one too. Having just me for conversation must be routine after so long."

"I'm glad I risked my life just so Chaos could find someone to talk to," Reks mutters, getting his footing back now that he's healed.

_Such insolence!_ Exodus booms again.

Reks resists the urge to groan while Rasler laughs at his pain; the bastard.

* * *

"How was your adventure?" Luccio asks as they sell some of the loot they got while travelling up to the peak.

"We're alive, so I'd count it a success," Reks answers with a shrug. "But we're planning on going back to Rabanastre for a bit. To get some more hunts."

The merchant laughs sharply. "Good luck with that," he says, rubbing his chin. "The Archadians have blocked off the borders from Nalbina on."

"Whatever for?" Rasler asks, tapping the Zodiac spear on his leg.

"You haven't heard? Wait, of course you haven't heard," Luccio says, with a laugh. "You two have been on a cliff for 10 days!"

"Well?" Rasler says.

"Vayne Solidor is coming to Rabanastre," the merchant says and Reks tenses with the name. Luccio doesn't notice and continues with a shrug. "He's going to be a new consul of Dalmasca, and the Imperials have blocked off the city for the last week!... At least they'll be done after today."

"Why today?" Rasler asks as Reks is still too numb to say anything.

"Last day of ceremonies. He's coming for his speech," Luccio answers. "And I think they're holding a fete in his honour today? Something like that. But after today, the festivities will be over and Rabanastre will be open again. Hopefully, we'll get some more travellers here."

Rasler nods and leads Reks away from the merchant, saying their goodbyes for his partner. Reks breathes sharply, grey eyes darting.

"We need to get there," Reks whispers to Rasler as they walk away from the merchant, pocketing the gil they've made. "I… I need see what's happening there."

"How?" Rasler asks, crossing his arms. "You heard Luccio."

Reks bites his lips in thought before snapping his fingers. "He said they're guarding the borders," Reks says with a smile. "They aren't guarding the gate crystal here."

Rasler turns to see the orange hued crystal and smiles. "I guess they're assuming people won't be using it?" the Nabradian says with a laugh. He rummages his satchel and pulls out a smaller, but matching hued stone. "Good thing I always pack some teleportation stones with me."

Reks squeezes the Nabradian's hand before leading them to the Teleportation crystal. "One good thing about you is that you're prepared."

"Is that all I'm good for?" Rasler replies with mock outrage.

Reks raises a brow and quirks his lips. "You're also pretty good eye candy."

* * *

The city gates are of course blocked by Imperials, but Reks bribes them with a bottle of Medovukha that he got from the Garif in Jahara before coming to Rabanastre. It's a good thing they are so close with Suhanu, who makes the best Medovukha in the village; they never would have gotten a bottle otherwise.

And if Reks slipped some mild irritant into the drink, well, how are the Imperials supposed to tell?

* * *

"So, what now?" Rasler asks, leaning against their kitchen counter. "What's the plan?"

Reks sighs from the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "…I don't know," he mutters. "But I want to make Vayne Solidor pay."

"If you don't have anything, may I suggest that we go see the man's speech?" Rasler offers as an idea. "If we leave now, we can probably make it. It's set to start with the third afternoon bells, if I recall what those Imperials said."

Reks gazes blankly at Rasler. "Why would I want to go see his speech?" he says with bewilderment.

Rasler shrugs. "I don't know, I thought maybe watching him get completely ripped apart by the Rabanastrians would make you feel better."

Reks sits up from the bed, pushing down the errant strands of silvery hair that fell out of place. "Let's go do that."

* * *

The speech does not make Reks feel better at all; in fact, it makes him feel even worse. It sickens Reks how easily the citizens eat out of Vayne's hands, and he feels the burn of betrayal from their reactions.

"What bullshit is this?" Reks hisses, leaning close to Rasler's ear to whisper it. Rasler cannot do anything but shrug his shoulders as he watches with narrowed eyes as they crowd actually _claps_as Vayne Solidor finishes his speech.

Rasler sighs, rubbing his temples with his hand. "Come on Reks, let's just go," he says, pulling the other hunter's arm.

Reks shakes his head, glaring at the dark haired Archadian.

The crowd disperses around them as the ceremony finishes, and Vayne Solidor steps down from his platform to talk to a blue-skinned Bangaa.

"Is that Migelo?" Reks asks, narrowing his eyes as he watches the old Bangaa bow. "What's he doing there?"

"He's probably doing something for the fete," Rasler replies, leaning forward to glance at the Bangaa. "Maybe he's the provisionary? I think he also did it for the wedding two years ago."

Reks clicks his tongue, crossing his arms tightly. "Why would he do that?" he mutters. "It's not like the Bangaa's hurting for gil."

Rasler shrugs giving him a light shove. "Come off it Reks," he says. "I'm sure he's not doing it because he wants to. It's not like he can refuse when the Archadians order him to."

"I _know _that," Reks snaps. "But still, I can't believe Migelo's bowing down to him."

"Let's just go," Rasler says again, already regretting asking Reks to come see the speech. But by Faram, how was he supposed to know that the Dalmascans would actually _cheer_for Vayne Solidor?!

Reks glares at the Archadian one last time before following Rasler out of the Palace courtyard, seething with barely concealed fury.

* * *

Rasler drags Reks to the Sandsea after the ceremony. They haven't eaten since they left the Garif and Reks is exponentially grumpier when he is hungry.

Reks raises his brows as Rasler uses his free hand to cover his lower face while he eats, even though they are sitting in a corner table.

"You look like you're about to sneeze all the time," Reks says with narrowed eyes, using his fork to point at the Nabradian. "Seriously, that's more conspicuous than not wearing anything at all."

Rasler shrugs, continuing to eat in that manner. "Reks, I know you're angry but don't attack me for it," he replies.

"It is your fault," Reks mutters. "You're the one that convinced me to go to that stupid ceremony. If it hadn't been for you, I could have-"

"Gentlemen," Tomaj cuts in, sauntering over to them. "I'm glad I caught you guys. I have real need for a hunter right now."

Reks rolls his eyes as Rasler pulls his scarf up. Like Tomaj would be able to tell.

"I wouldn't mind. Reks is in a mood and he needs to release some stress, you know?" the Nabradian says, ignoring Reks' glare. "But we can't leave the city, with the consul and all."

"Ah, my naïve Nabradian friend," Tomaj tsks with an air of wisdom. "You could if it had something to do with the fete itself."

"What do you mean?" Reks asks, sipping his water. It's only mid-afternoon; it'd be ridiculous to get drunk this early.

Tomaj shakes his head. "There's this creature, being a complete bother to the caraveners," the bar owner explains. "Migelo managed to borrow some provisions from me but still, there are shortages all around! You'd be able to use the fete as an excuse to get out and kill the thing. I'm even paying for the mark out of my own pockets!"

Tomaj pulls out the poster, depicting a mandrake-like creature. "It's that," he says. "Small but monstrous."

Reks' eyes flickers down to the paper. "Looks like a Nightshade," he comments lightly, not really interested in the hunt. His mind is more focused on Vayne Solidor; if he's here then she must be here as well, right? Reks had gone back to Archades two times after their meeting with Roh'Kenmu, and each time, he was unable to secure the sandalwood chop to enter Tsenoble. But, if he could get into the palace, into the fete, he could talk to her. He'd only have to meet Lady Galbana once, just to explain his situation, and she'd help him, wouldn't she? Every time he's been in Archades, all people seem to talk about was how she had brought good back into House Solidor, and if she could make those heartless bastards see reason, she must be kind. And-

Tomaj snapping his fingers in front of his face brings Reks back. "What?" he says, turning to the barkeep.

Tomaj stares down at him, raising his brows. "I said, that yes, this is a nightshade and that it probably made its way over from the Feywood," he answers with a sigh, shaking his head. "It's dangerous to the native fauna and to the food prices, high as they already are. You should go and kill it."

"Why don't you?" Reks replies, tilting his head. He needs to find a way into the palace, and Tomaj is wasting his time! He'd probably need to convince Rasler, and who knows how long that would take? Time is of the essence.

Tomaj opens his hands out, gesturing to the Sandsea. "And who would take care of this if I left?" he says with a dramatic sigh.

"Alright, I'll take it then," Rasler says before Reks can refuse. "Not like I want to stay and watch Dalmasca fall even further."

"Wait-" Reks tries to cut in, only to be drowned out by Tomaj's loud voice.

"Grand!" Tomaj says, shaking hands with Rasler. "It's in the Estersands, right by the city entrance, near the cliff area. You know where I'm talking about?"

"In the Stepping?" Rasler replies.

"That's right."

Tomaj leaves with wave, as another patron asks for the hume. Reks stares blankly at Rasler as the Nabradian raises his brows.

"Did I do something wrong?" Rasler asks as he catches Reks' stare.

Reks wants to yell but shrugs his shoulders instead. "It's just, I'm still tired from Exodus," he lies. "Even if it's an easy hunt, which that looks like it'll be, I just wanted to rest today."

If Reks plays his cards right, he might kill two birds with one stones; if Rasler leaves alone for this hunt, Reks won't have to try and convince him to sneak into the fete and he'll have the rest of the day to look for a way in.

Rasler nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed tightly. "I completely forgot about the esper," he says with a sigh. Rasler shakes the hunt with Rouge Tomato. "Sorry, Reks. I've forgotten how draining it is. I'll go by myself. It _does_ look pretty weak, and it's only level 1."

"Thanks," Reks replies, ignoring the jolt of guilt for his lie.

* * *

Rasler shoulders his satchel before giving Reks a kiss. "I'll be back soon," the Nabradian says with a wave. "Don't do anything to get yourself in trouble, ok?"

Reks nods and lies down on the bed, pulling the covers over his head. He waits silently for 20 minutes, to ensure that he won't run into Rasler accidently.

When he is sure that the Nabradian has left Rabanastre, he pens a short message, written in a scrawl on a napkin, and slips out of their house.

"Sorry Rasler," he whispers before making his way to Old Dalan's house.

* * *

Old Dalan is a mystery for all of Rabanastre; he's been around in Lowtown even before the annexation of Dalmasca, and has more tales than truths to tell. He doesn't resemble the natives of Dalmasca, and there are whispers of his colourful past as a spymaster for the Rozzarians. Though Raminas had been the King of Dalmasca, in Lowtown, Old Dalan has always been the ruler.

Reks doesn't particularly believe the rumours but he doesn't trust the old man either. However, if anyone knows the way into the palace, it is Old Dalan.

When he slips into the old hume's home, there are children clumped in the front, listening with wide eyes as Dalan finishes his latest fable. After the war, Old Dalan's stories have become one of the only times when the orphans could be just kids again.

Old Dalan trails off with his ending, taking a long drag of his pipe. His thick, white eyebrows rise as they catch sight of Reks. The children run off with a wave of their hands as Dalan promises them a new story tomorrow. When they are alone, Old Dalan pets his giza rabbit and gives Reks a sharp look.

"So, the mad soldier wishes for my assistance?" he says with a cackle, the laugh smoke-filled and raspy. Reks narrows his eyes but holds his tongue.

"I'm sure you of all people have heard of my miserly ways," Reks replies, twitching his lips up into a mockery of a smile. "I thought the fete would be a good time for me to _partake_. I'm sure most of the guards will be too busy guarding the good consul to even worry about a few trinkets here or there."

Reks keeps his secrets close to his heart and there is no way he will reveal his desire to meet with Lady Galbana to one such as Dalan.

The old man laughs once more, shaking his head. His multitude of earrings clink lightly as it sways back and forth. "I wonder if that is all you wish to do," Old Dalan comments, his eyes bright with glee. "So, the hunter wishes to hunt for gold instead of monsters… How, _interesting_."

Old Dalan cackles and pulls out a darkened stone from his pockets. "Wise I may not be, but well-informed I am," he says tossing the rock at Reks. "And there is a particularly interesting rumour I've come across. A secret passageway into the palace vaults, a door, and a magicked stone that opens the way."

Reks snorts with derision. "I need a map, not a fairytale," he says with a cold stare.

Dalan shakes his head, looking at Reks with pity. "Yet, fairytales are stories born from truths," the man says. "The crescent stone, the one you hold in your hand, will lead you to the palace vaults once you get inside. But its power is weakened; you must bring its brethren, the sunstone and together they will light the way into the vaults."

Reks sighs but nods nonetheless. "This is great and all, but I need to get into the palace before I can find the vaults, you know?"

Old Dalan simply laughs once more. "Come back with the sunstone, show me your determination boy, and then I will tell you."

* * *

Rabanastre's gates are still locked and will do so until the fete is over; Rasler only managed to leave because he had the excuse of "gaining foodstuff for the fete." Reks ponders a way to escape as he packs lightly for a trip to the nomad village in Giza.

He realizes quite soon that the Lowtown access to the Southern gate is unguarded. For one, many of the imperials don't know about it, and assume it is broken as the rest of the access ways, and for another, no one wants to station themselves in Lowtown. Many Imperials enter to chase after a thief only to disappear forever; most likely the work of the Resistance.

And… the Lowtown entrance malfunctions regularly, opening without any prompting from time to time. Reks smile and nods to himself, fiddling with a slender dagger.

It's always a good plan when he can annoy some Imperials along the way.

* * *

Reks bites back a laugh as he watches the two Imperials guarding the South gate jump in surprise as the Lowtown entrance opens. He needs to stay silent; vanish makes him invisible, but nothing else.

"We should just jam that gate, what with it opening up all the time," one of the soldiers mutters.

The other guard snorts, stomping over to where Reks stands, metal armour clanking with each step. The hunter presses his lips together and stops his breathing before slipping past the guard and running towards Giza Plains.

"Ain't nothing there," the other one replies. "This gate will be the end of us, it will…"

The sound of gil clinking is lost amongst the mutterings of Rabanastrians that have been barred entry to the city, which is good because that Imperial had a particularly full pouch.

* * *

"Reks, you're sort of early; you don't leave for another month or two, right?" Masyua says when Reks meanders into the Nomad village, flask of water on his lips. Masyua is the woman in charge of trading Sunstones as well as distributing production amongst the village children. She wears a headdress that covers her neck against the strong desert rays and her skin has a special ointment that prevents burns rubbed on it.

Reks nods. "I need a sunstone but it's for something else," he replies, swinging the ill-gotten gil pouch. "I'll pay extra since I'm asking on such short notice. I got a little _bonus_on my last hunt."

Masyua laughs, tilting her head back. "Oh, please. I'm sure some Imperial is crying over his lost gil as we speak," she says with a shake of her head. "I'd like to help but we are actually out right now. Jinn, Mir and Fatim left to make sunstones for our new shipment."

"They aren't back yet?" Reks asks, crossing his arms. "It's already afternoon."

"They packed their lunches when they left," Masyua replies. "The children are used to the work, not soft like you city folks. They should be in Southern portion of Giza plains, finishing the last of the sunstones. I'll give you a discount if you help them carry the sunstones back."

"I can do that," Reks says. "I'll see you, Masyua."

Reks leaves her to wander the village, saying hello to Elder Brunoa and trying to gauge where the children will be. The Gize plain is vast, and even just searching the Southern portion could take hours, so he needs to prioritize which area to look first. At the Elder's advice, he goes to search for the other children who don't have to work today; the village rotates the sunstone making duty amongst the kids, and if anyone would know the favoured locations, it will be they.

"Penelo?" Reks says as he walks towards the gaggle of children. Penelo is crouched next to the children, waving her hands as she murmurs a story to them. The young Dalmascan stands and tilts her head towards Reks.

"Reks? What are you doing here?" Penelo asks, shifting her weight back and forth.

"I could ask you the same thing," Reks replies with a smile. "Shouldn't you be off helping Migelo at the fete?"

"He has enough help as it is. I'm free for the whole day," Penelo replies. "What of you, Reks?"

"Need some sunstones," he replies with a shrug. "I need to find Jinn or Mir or Fatim and help them carry them back."

"I'll join you," Penelo says, stretching her arms above her head. "We haven't had a chance to hang out recently."

* * *

"How'd you get out of the city?" Reks asks once they are out of the village. He taps his sword and looks around the steppe leisurely. The creatures here are relatively weak, so he doesn't have to be on guard that stringently. "I mean, I had to use several underhanded ways to get out myself."

Penelo shrugs, her pale braids bouncing with the motion. "Just need to drop Migelo's name and they let me leave the city," she says with a laugh. "I still had a transport slip from a month ago and apparently that was enough paperwork."

"I wonder if some of them even read," he adds with a chuckle.

She nods along, tilting her head to the sky. "You know, it's strange," she mumbles, fiddling with her dagger. "Before, we'd never need something like transport papers just for a quick visit to the Nomad village. So much has changed in two years, you know? It's like it's not even Rabanastre anymore."

"Nothing's permanent. Not Dalmasca, not Archadia," Reks replies, scanning the horizon for any sign of the children. "But I think the reason we are so strong is that we can grow with the change, face the challenge."

_The foolish hope of humes. To think themselves mighty._Exodus huffs in his mind.

'Be quiet, old man,' Reks replies sharply, rolling his eyes at the Esper's affronted rumble.

Penelo nods, and they make the rest of the trek to the crystal glade in comfortable silence.

* * *

"What happened to you?!" Penelo bursts out when they see the three children huddled around the blue protective crystal.

"It's Jinn!" Fatim says, sitting on the small crate of sunstones. "He hurt his ankle!"

"Yea!" Mir shouts in agreement. "We were just finishing up when Jinn got hurt!"

Penelo crosses her arms in front of her, giving the children a stern look. Reks stifles a laugh behind his hand; Penelo is the last person they want to mess with, with her having to take care of the Lowtown orphans most of the time.

"What _really_happened?" she asks, leaving no room for argument.

The three children look around biting their lips. Finally, Jinn laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, you know… We were done a little early…" Jinn stammers out turning to Fatim for support. "And, since we were done, we thought we could explore a bit."

Jinn elbows Fatim who blubbers for a moment before adding, "So, we were looking around and we got a little too close to the werewolves!"

Penelo raises her brows. "So you were playing chicken," she hisses before leaning down to glare at the children. "What would have happened if you got seriously hurt?! What would poor Masyua do without you!"

The children look abashed, staring down on the dusty ground. "Sorry Penelo," they say in unison, brows furrowed.

Reks taps Penelo on her shoulder and leans in to her ear. "Don't be too harsh on them," he whispers with humour in his voice. "You and I both know Masyua is going to tan their hides soon enough."

* * *

Masyua shakes her head and glares down at the children as they enter the village; Reks has to piggyback Jinn while Penelo, Fatim and Mir carry the sunstones. Reks almost pities the kids as Masyua gives them sharp words along with furious gestures. The sunstone merchant pauses her yelling only once to give Penelo and him a grateful smile and to pass a sunstone to Reks.

As they leave, Reks takes a moment to look back and smiles as he sees Masyua hug the three children tightly.

* * *

This time it is relatively easy to get back into the city. They manage to get everyone waiting in the Southern gate in with them as Penelo waves her _paperwork_ at the bewildered guards' faces.

"We should do that again," Penelo says once they've returned to the city proper. "I had a good time. We… haven't really gotten a chance to do something together."

Reks nods. "I enjoyed our little adventure too," he replies. "Take care Penelo."

"Say hi to Raze for me!" Penelo calls out, jogging off to the merchant area, back to Migelo's shop.

Reks stares down at the sunstone, turning it this way and that. "Now… back to Old Dalan."

* * *

_Rabanastre East Gate,_ _Year 706 Old Valendian_

Rasler grumbles to himself, swinging the sack that holds the Rouge Tomato's head. The hunt was beyond easy but the bastard kept fleeing, making the Nabradian chase after it for hours. In his pocket, he carries Galbana Lilies, Reks' favourite flowers. He had been lucky to see them, just moments after the hunt; the lilies are a rare find in the Estersands.

"You've got to be joking," he hisses as he sees the crowd that surrounds the gates and hears the Imperials' booming voice shouting orders to get back.

Rasler shoves himself to the front, crossing his arms in front of him as he faces the Imperial.

"What's going on here?" he demands. "The celebration is over already; the gates are supposed to be open."

"No one gets in or out until the _fete_ is over," the Imperial sneers back. "Get the sand out of your ears peasant."

_Destroy him, son of Nabradia_. Chaos advises. _How dare he speak to a king this way? Call my power and destroy him._

'I'm King to no one,' Rasler shoots back. 'It won't be that easy for you to come out and play.'

Rasler narrows his eyes at the Imperial. "I completed the hunt on the orders of the fete's provisionary."

"He can wait til tomorrow," the other Imperial comments before saying with finality, "No one gets in or out."

The Nabradian glares before walking leisurely to the Chocobo stands. He won't let the Imperials see how angry he is; that would be letting them win. Instead, he smiles at the gurdy and rents a chocobo.

He might as well visit Dantro at the outpost and get some information for Reks.

* * *

Reks drops the sunstone and crescent stone into the old man's hand, giving him an expectant look. "Well? I've brought you the stone," he says. "How do I get in?"

Old Dalan cackles, smoky laughter filling the room. "Not one to mince words, are you?" he says before pressing the two stones together. The light of the sunstone passes onto the crescent stone, making both glow faintly. He passes the stones back to Reks. "First, you go to storehouse five. Two doors she has. The left will lead you to the Garamsythe Waterway; the waterway leads to a staircase. Those stairs to the palace cellars."

"Good, thanks," Reks says, getting ready to leave when Old Dalan's hand shoots up to stop him.

"Don't go counting your gil _just yet_," Dalan advises with a laugh. "The crescent stone has powerful magicks that will lead you to the secret passage but it needs to find the signet. Listen carefully, for these words are important. The signet yearns for sunstone's strength to light the clouded way."

When Reks doesn't say anything, the old man says with a wink, "I could explain what it means but I think you know, yes?"

Reks shrugs. "I think I got it," he says with confidence he doesn't feel.

It doesn't matter if he can get into the treasury or not; that is not his goal anyways.

* * *

Reks leaves at sunset, two hours before the fete is set to start. The waterway's monsters are troublesome but are not particularly memorable and soon he stands before the staircase, heart pounding.

If all goes well, he'll have Vaan back by the morrow.

* * *

_Courtyard, Dalmasca Royal Palace, Year 706 Old Valendian_

The courtyard is silent except for the soft whirr of Fran's hover; Balthier jumps as the bike slows and lands on the marble tiles in a crouch. Behind him, the sky pirate hears his partner turning the cloaking device on the bike and shoving it in a discreet nook.

"So, where to now?" Fran asks, raising a pale brow. The viera's ears twitch minutely as she takes in the surroundings. "The guards are yet far but this is still more than we are accustomed to."

Balthier smirks, giving his partner a wink. "Well, of course," he says. "We are going to steal from the consul himself after all. A prize befitting the leading man."

"You bite more than you can chew," Fran comments as Balthier leads them deeper into the palace. "The hardheadedness of humes."

Balthier simply smiles again. "It's worth the risk," he says, his face momentarily losing its mask of nonchalance and revealing the determination that darkens his eyes. "This treasure is greater any other."

Fran's face does not change, though her eyes soften. "Then, faster we should go. The guards come."

* * *

'Sometimes it is a blessing to have a pretty face,' Reks can't help but think as he carries a tray of Bhujerban madhu, each drink in a sparkling crystal. When he had arrived, it turned out that the workers would only be setting up and cleaning after the fete was over. Luckily for Reks, one of the servers had gotten ill and needed someone to replace her; Reks charmed the Archadian head of staff with some disgustingly fake Archadian accent and got on the serving group.

All the servers hide their faces behind domino masks, but Reks also makes sure to avoid Vayne Solidor and that terrifying Judge.

He meanders through the crowds, trying to catch a glimpse or even a chirp of "Lady Galbana" from the other nobles. There is no golden hair amongst the party goers, even when he risks his neck and chances a glance in Vayne's general direction.

"What a shame," one of the women titters as she takes a glass from his tray. She looks coquettishly at him, eyes hooded and her fan moving obnoxiously quickly.

Reks smiles at her, though he makes sure to keep her at arm's length. "Whatever do you mean, my lady?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

"That Lady Galbana is not here, of course," she says with a sigh. "I would beg her aid to _charm_ a handsome young Dalmascan I've met."

"She's not here?" he blurts out, unable to control his shock. "But, does not Lord Solidor-" oh, it pains him to refer to Vayne Solidor that way. "Have her accompany him wherever he goes?"

She smiles triumphantly, happy to share her knowledge. "She was unwell for the trip," she says with inconspicuous roll of her eyes. It's like she is playing a game of spies and Reks wonders if all the nobles in Archades act this way.

"I see…" he says before bowing, looking at his tray and making haste his escape. "Well, looks like I'm out of madhu to serve. I must be off!"

Reks doesn't give the woman a chance to catch him as he casts vanish on himself and flees from the banquet hall.

* * *

With his luck, Reks shouldn't have even gotten his hopes up, but he had done so again, with devastating results. Not _here_. Of all the times to get ill, why _this time_?!

Reks sighs and walks silently along the massive halls until he finds the exit to the allure. He probably should leave now before he gets arrested, since the reason he came here in the first place isn't even present. The wall walk will give him a good view of the courtyard and help him find an alternate way into the waterways.

When he steps outside though, Reks is shocked to hear the sounds of battle and not an Imperial in sight in the allure.

"What?" he mutters, running to the parapet to see the courtyard below. Reks groans when he sees the battle. "The Resistance…"

The Dalmascan Resistance is holding up but not well; they are outnumbered three to one and the differences between the Imperial and their equipment are too great. It becomes even worse when fireballs rain down on the courtyard devastating the Resistence members.

"Shit, Gria!" Reks hisses when he catches sight of his former comrade. "Damn!"

Reks jumps off the parapet and casts float on himself to minimize the damage before casting a quick curaga spell on Gria and several other members of the Resistance. He also makes sure to keep Vanish on himself; he has no plans of being connected with the resistance or Captain Azelas. Reks runs through the courtyard, curing who he can and blasting the Imperials with fire spells as he makes his way to the grate. It is on the edge of the garden, meant to keep the garden from getting overwatered during the rains. Reks slides inside just as his vanish wears off and he sighs with relief at not being caught.

_You flee?! Go fight!_The Judge-Sal bellows. _Use my might to bring justice!_

'You just want to get out!' Reks grumbles while checking himself for any injuries. He needs to move quickly, in order to not get caught in the Resistance's fire. He rips off the domino mask and re-dons the gauntlets he had been hiding in his pockets.

It is just when he is about to set out that a mighty rumble crashes over head and Reks barely jumps out of the way as a hoverbike crashes in.


	5. Chapter 2-The Goddess' Magicite

_Garamsythe Waterway, Year 706 Old Valendian_

Reks coughs as the dust from the shattered stone permeates the air. The hoverbike skids across to the adjacent wall, puttering smoke as it dies.

"Are you insane?" he growls, glaring at the viera and her hume partner. "How could you just crash into the sewers like that?!"

The man shrugs, fiddling with his cufflinks; typical Archadian, Reks wants to hiss. "Wasn't really our choice, now was it Fran?"

The viera crouches next to the hover, frown marring her face. "What happened?" she says with a tilt of her head. "Our hover didn't just drop. It disappeared."

"Forget it; even if we could fly, the Ifrit's playing with fire and I'd rather not get burned," the man hisses before faces Reks, raising his brows. "And who might you be? A member of the insurgence?"

Reks sneers. "Oh please, like I'd associate with those hypocrites," he mutters. "Who are you two? Bandits looking for an easy steal?"

"I'm the leading man, of course," the Archadian says with a flourish, ignoring the jibe.

Reks narrows his eyes, unamused. "I see," he says with a drawl before nodding to the viera. "So who's that, the leading lady?"

"No," the viera says, her white hair almost glowing against the dark backdrop of the sewers. "In this tale, I play the deuteragonist."

What are they? Some sort of acting troupe? What frustrating bunch of people. Reks seriously considers if they are drunk on too much madhu or something.

"Ok… Just…" Reks mutters, shaking his head at the duo. "Could I- Could I just get your names? Without the-you know-titles?"

"You should present yourself before asking for another's," the viera states flatly, her long fingernails tapping on the dark skin of her arms.

Reks closes his eyes and pinches his nose. These people… "I am Reks; a simple hunter from Rabanastre," he says after taking several calming breaths. "No connection to the self righteous Resistance of Low town."

"I am the sky pirate Balthier," he says with a tilt of his head. "I'm insulted that you haven't heard of the leading man. This is my partner, Fran."

Fran nods. "Our choices are few and it seems our paths are the same," she says, looking across the sewer passages. "It'd be best to ally ourselves."

Balthier sighs, giving Reks a calculating stare. "Well, beggars can't be chooser now can they? Then, what do you say?" the Archadian asks with a raise of his brows. "Shall we team up?"

"Not like I have much of a choice," Reks mutters before glaring at Balthier. "I hope you haven't stolen something that'll land me in prison."

"Nothing of the sort," Balthier says with smirk. "Let's be off, shall we?"

* * *

Reks decides that Balthier talks too much and resists the urge to yell at him; he wouldn't even mind the sky pirate's rambling if the Archadian wouldn't stick to such frivolous topics. Reks doesn't care that Balthier's shirt is made of Rozarrian silk and the stink is going to stay; he _doesn't_. Fran remains impassive, content with letting her partner do the talking.

The one good thing about the two of them is that they are silent on their feet and they speed up the process of travelling the waterways.

Reks leads the way, since he is the only one who has travelled through the Garamsythe waterway. Reks has no map but with his experience of travelling through it before, he has a relatively good grasp on the infrastructure. Exodus also seems to have some form of internal compass that guides him in the general direction of the exit. Though for all he knows, Exodus may just be leading them to their deaths.

_I am wounded at your mistrust._ Exodus rumbles, as though he actually cares.

When they round the bend, Reks' eyes widen as he sees several bodies of dead Resistance fighters. Luckily, Reks doesn't see anyone he recognizes though he still offers a silent prayer for the fallen.

"Insurgents," Balthier says, as though Reks wouldn't know. "Probably thought to take advantage of the lax watch while the fete's on. Probably to feed the good consul a length of steel for his supper."

When neither Reks nor Fran comment, Balthier continues with twitch of his lips. "Clever. He used himself as bait to draw them near then sent in the air brigade."

"So, it wasn't about him becoming the consul at all," Reks mutters. No wonder she didn't show up…As if Vayne Solidor would risk Lady Galbana's life; his precious _golden bird_.

"No, just a fine _bloody _banquet," Balthier replies. "I daresay I've soiled my cuffs… If a dungeon's waiting for us at the end of the night, it'd best to have a change of wardrobe."

"There won't be; no dungeons for me," Reks says sharply. "We just have to move quicker. If the Resistance has fled this far into the sewers, anyone caught would also be implicated."

"We should get going then," Fran comments as she pushes back her hair. "Instead of standing idle."

* * *

They are making good headway, avoiding as much fighting as possible when Reks hears the distasteful accent of Archadian vulgarity and the clanging of swords.

The Imperials have surrounded a lone woman; she is backed unto the edge of a platform a floor above them. But there is no defeat in her eyes, only anger. Her shoulder-length hair, pale like his own, sways softly with the breeze.

"Who would be next?!" she thunders as she pushes an imperial off the precarious perch; he falls on his back, and Reks knows that even the most skilled healers would not be able to bring his mobility back, should he even live.

"Close ranks!" One of the faceless Archadians order.

Balthier sighs. "Sometimes it's hard being the leading man," he comments before whipping out his gun and shooting the leader of the gang of Imperials.

"I suggest you jump," Balthier calls out to the warrior. The woman glances down at them suspiciously before understanding her situation and putting her faith in Balthier. "Fran, if you would."

Fran sighs. "Our ranks grow by the hour," she says blandly before casting float on the young woman.

"My troubles with it," Reks mutters, as one of the Imperials shouts something about more Insurgents. He draws his blade as the Imperials file down the steps, prepared to heal any of the others if needed. Though both Balthier and Fran can also cast White Magick, Balthier lacks much power behind his spells and Fran's long ranged weapon would be more useful in this situation.

Thankfully the group of Imperials is small, only about six soldiers and Reks and the other have no trouble immobilizing them. Reks faces the woman, raising his brow at her impractical clothing choices; Fran's is pretty bad, but he knows from Krjn that Viera skin itself is very tough, and that the traditional armours they wear are specially crafted and magicked for their species.

"Are you alright?" Reks asks, cleaning his blade with a rag he had in his pocket.

"Thank you," she replies, smoothing down her fuchsia miniskirt. "I am Amalia…Did you meet anyone else? There were others with me…"

"I'm sorry," Fran says with a shake of her head.

The Resistance fighter turns away from them, tilting her head down. "No…"

Balthier looks on with a frown before sighing. Reks raises his brows as the Sky pirate pulls out a handkerchief from some mysterious pocket before walking past him to get to the woman. It's as he passes by that Reks notices something odd about Balthier's pocket…

"Um, hey Balthier?" Reks says with shake of his head. "Your…I don't know how to say this… But your ass is glowing."

"Why, Thank you," Balthier comments nonchalantly, pausing for only a second. Amalia gives Reks a confused stare, turning back to face them.

It takes Reks a moment to figure it out before he groans and glares at the Sky Pirate. "No, you arrogant… piece of work!" the hunter growls. "No, it's actually _literally _glowing. Something on your butt is glowing!"

"It is the magicite," Fran says. "The one in your back pocket."

"Oh," Balthier says, pulling out the orange hued stone with a small chuckle. The glow is more noticeable, now that it is out of Balthier's pocket. "Well now isn't that impressive."

Reks stares at the glowing rock before slapping his forehead with his hand. The magick properties within is vast, and he can feel Exodus chuckling with mirth. "Oh god," he groans. "You're going to get me arrested. What the hell is that?! You said you hadn't stolen anything that'd land us in jail!"

Amalia looks disgusted with the pirate. "You _stole _that?!"

"Are you finished?" Fran cuts in before Balthier's affronted pride can interject. The viera's ears twitch, from anger or annoyance or worry, Reks cannot tell. "When the guards don't report in, they'll come looking for us."

"If they aren't already," Balthier admits with a sigh. "We best be off."

Reks nods and prepares to leave when Amalia calls out to them. "Wait," she says, standing tall with pride. "I am going with you."

"No one invited you," Reks says blankly. Truthfully, this woman is grating on his nerves; she acts so high and mighty even though her life was effectively saved by Balthier. Not only that, she pushes herself into things, as though any and all would accept her unconditionally. He's going to get a headache from this, he's sure.

Balthier raises a brow at Reks' hostility and Amalia, too, has an expression of shock.

"It's not as though I _want _to travel with you," she hisses. "However, the situation requires that I accept what help I can, be it from _thieves_. Only until we find my companions of course."

Reks groans with aggravation. "For the last time, we didn't invite you," he says sharply. "That's not really the attitude you should have when asking for help."

"You'd leave me to fend for myself?" Amalia hisses.

"You were doing fine before we came here."

"Enough," Fran says. "Just let her come. If she is captured alone, they'd have an easier time finding us."

"Fran's right," Balthier adds. "We're wasting time as it is."

"Though we travel together, we'll keep to our affairs and she to hers," Balthier continues. "I doubt we'd find her wanting in valour though. Being such an outstanding member of the insurgence."

Amalia glares. "Resistance," she says sharply.

Reks sighs as he's out voted, and the Resistance member joins in their little group. "I'm going to get a migraine after this," he mutters to himself.

"I already have one," the Sky Pirate replies with a nod before running to make some distance between them and the fallen Archadians.

* * *

"What?" Reks says when he catches the Dalmascan woman staring for the sixth time in the last half hour.

Amalia's eyes widen for a moment before she regains her composure. "You are… Reks, you said?" she asks.

Reks sighs and prepares himself for what will come. With her attitude, he's surprised Amalia hasn't exploded at him yet. "Yes," he replies, fiddling with his sleeves. "What of it?"

Amalia tightens her lips, pressing them together tightly. There is a pause as she tries to collect her thoughts. "Then, you are by chance Reks the_former_ soldier?"

He knows what she really wants to say, and resists the urge to sigh. In the Resistance, he'll never lose the name "mad soldier."

"Whatever it is you want to say, just get on with it," Reks mutters with a wave of his hand.

Amalia huffs, pride wounded by his nonchalance. "I-I just don't _understand_," she says sharply, ignoring Balthier's attempt to stop the impending argument. "How could you not join us when we were desperate for aid? How could you ignore the oath of country and sovereignty you made when you joined arms?"

Reks stares at her incredulously before barking out a sharp laugh; it's an unpleasant sound, bitterness permeating it. "I didn't join the troops because I was loyal to Dalmasca," he hisses. "The king forced us to march, to fight a war everyone knew we would lose."

"How could you say that?!" she shouts. "After everything we've lost?!"

"Could you possibly talk a little quieter? We are still trying to escape," Balthier's comments, though he is ignored completely.

"What of today, then?!" Reks says. "How many fell tonight?! How many died for no reason. Face it Amalia, all you are doing is fighting for Vossler's pride! If you were really devoted to Dalmasca's freedom, your Resistance would have tried to get powerful supporters by now! Everyone knows Rozzaria will aid the Resistance if Dalmasca was humble enough to bow!"

Amalia sneers, her face contorting with rage. "Rozzaria and Archadia are two sides of the same coin!" she answers sharply. "Dalmasca needs no handler! Besides, you don't understand the Margrace or the Solidor. The Margrace are only marginally better."

Reks doesn't reply, simply glaring and turning away from her; he needs to calm down, to fight this woman would do nothing. He's ignore the taunts before, he can do it again.

However, Amalia is not done yet; anger still seething. "You don't even know what they've done to us!" she screams at his back, and Balthier sighs at the sound while Fran's ears twitch. "You understand nothing! You know nothing of how far the Solidors would go!"

Something snaps within Reks at Amalia's words. He whirls around and slams a fist at the wall, right by the woman's head. A part of him knows he shouldn't be acting this way, but he can feel nothing but the surge of anger.

"You know _nothing_ about me," he hisses, glaring down Amalia. He can hear Exodus laugh somewhere in the back of his mind but ignores it. The sound of flowing water, of Balthier and Fran all fade into white noise. "You know nothing of the wrongs that family has done to me! Believe me,_no one_knows better than I about how far the Solidors would go to get what they want! **No one**!"

His voice gets increasingly louder with each word until he is screaming. He fences her in with his other hand when she tries to flee, and he can vaguely feel something break in his grip. "So, don't _delude_yourself into thinking that it is ignorance that stops people from joining your Resistance," he growls. "They don't join because they know that all they are fighting for is the pride of a single person, not for Dalmasca."

Anger drains out of him with his last words, and Reks suddenly feels the pain on his hands, the insistent tugging on his sleeves. It is as though he was in a haze until now. Balthier finally manages to tug him away from Amalia and Reks stares at his bloody hands, crushed rock embedded into the skin.

"What in Ivalice was that?!" Balthier asks, making Reks face him. Amalia remains frozen against the wall, body trembling almost unnoticeably, face pale.

"What?" Reks says with a glare, picking out flecks of stone. He stares at the indented wall, wondering where all the strength came from.

Fran stands silently before narrowing her eyes. "You were covered with mist," she explains. "Burning… Frightful mist rolled off you…" She trails off as she gives Reks an appraising stare.

_You almost lost it…_Exodus comments. _What a shame you brought yourself back._

Reks sighs, knowing that the Esper had something to do with it. "Well then," he says, trying to salvage the situation. "I guess Amalia should stop pissing me off for the rest of this trip."

He shoves past them, back to the front. "Come on," he says, not looking back. "We've wasted enough time as it is."

"And whose fault is that?" Balthier mutter in the back. Reks can hear the pirate turning to the Resistance fighter. "And _you_, I'd suggest you stay in the back with me until we part."

* * *

Reks takes out his anger on the Jellies that attack them; his fire spell seems extra powerful tonight. They are a formidable team, as Amalia adds extra white magick that allows Reks to join in the fight more frequently.

But their trek is tense and silent now, with only Balthier and Fran murmuring to each other. Amalia remains far from him, only shooting him sharp looks when she thinks he is distracted; good, he'd rather not talk to her anyways.

They are nearing the exit, when Amalia seems to have gotten her voice back.

"What did they do?" she asks with a wary stare. "What did the Solidors do to you?"

Reks smiles bitterly and does not answer, meandering his way to the Overflow Coaca instead. Finally, they've made it to the entrance to Lowtown and Reks will never have to deal with these weirdoes again.

But fog rises around them before Reks can celebrate, and he groans as a Firemane thunders its way in front of them, blocking their exit.

"Oh, for-!" Reks mutters, pulling out his blade. He turns and glares at Balthier. "Is your stupid rock bringing all these monsters to us?!"

"Oh please, if anything, your little show with the mist is probably what's dragging them to us," Balthier comments with roll of his eyes, aiming his gun to fire at the beast; he swears under his breath as the monster teleports.

"Enough talking," Fran says, drawing her bow. "It will be a long fight as it is."

* * *

The Firemane neigh with finality as it disappears, merging back into the mist from whence it came. Amalia casts cure on the group while Reks uses water on some of the worst burns on Balthier and Amalia. Their tension is more or less broken by their battle, and they even manage to share a smile with one another.

The sound of guns cocking and the soft clanking of metal brings the party from their victory high. Reks' world shifts to focus only on the man in the front and centre of the brigade of Imperials targeting them. This is the closest Reks has been to Vayne Solidor since the incident, and he is bitter to note that the Archadian doesn't look any worse for wear. Behind him, Reks can hear Balthier muttering something to Amalia but Reks' focus is only on the Consul.

"Well," Vayne Solidor says with hooded eyes. "Isn't this a surprise?"

* * *

They cuff his wrists in front of him, with magick draining stones lining the shackles; they want to keep an eye on his hands, an extra precaution to make sure he can't cast something. Amalia stands beside him, seething as Vayne walks down the line, scanning the group while Balthier just sighs with annoyance.

"Sky pirates, an Insurgent-" Vayne drawls.

"Resistance," Amalia cuts sharply, glaring with such fury that Reks wonders if Vayne will spontaneously combust.

The Solidor ignores her, as though she is no one important, and Amalia's face turns even redder with rage. The Archadian stands instead, in front of Reks, smiling that serpent smile.

"Well, if it isn't our illustrious hunter," Vayne says, and Reks wants to rip the bastard's face off but with his shackles, and the Imperial blade unsheathed right by his side, Reks can't do much. "Still naïve, and still foolish."

Reks laughs, fake and plastic; his grey eyes flashing with rage, as his lips quirk into a sneer. "That's your type though, isn't it?" he hisses, leaning in to grind out the words. "_Naïve_ and _Foolish_."

Vayne glares down at him, the mask of nonchalance breaking for a moment. "And you still wonder why they think you mad?"

Before Reks can even respond, Vayne nods to one of his soldiers and Reks feels a sharp pain on the back of his head.

* * *

Penelo pushes through the crowd, still unbelieving of the situation. Reks wouldn't, _isn't_foolish enough to try and steal from the palace, he isn't!

However, she can no longer deny it when she sees Reks slumped between two Imperials, unconscious and blood staining the pale hair. There are others with him but they are no one she recognizes. One of the women is shouting for the Imperials to let the others go as she is led away from other three, and Penelo wonders for a second if the woman is someone important.

But there isn't time to ponder that as the blood blooms larger on Reks' head.

"Reks!" Penelo shouts fighting her way towards the group. From the corner of her eyes, she can see the Imperials preparing to attack her, to stop her by any means.

Before any Imperial can land a blow though, a sharply dressed man stops in front of her, his short brown hair gelled back. She tilts her head as the man holds a white silk handkerchief, embroidered on the edges.

"Hold on to this for me," the man says with a smile. "Just until I can get Reks back."

Penelo takes it with a tilt of her head. "Where-where are they taking him?" she asks, brows furrowed with distress. "He's… He's my _brother_."

Fran slides into the conversation, putting a gentle hand on the young hume. "It is not as bad as it could be," the viera says softly, towering over the humes. "We are being shipped to Nalbina."

Both the sky pirates watch with confusion, though Fran is better at hiding it, as Penelo's face pales and puts a shaking hand on her lips. It's as though the girl heard the pirate say execution.

"No…" the blonde gasps out. "No…"

There isn't much time to reassure the girl as he's being led away but Balthier whips out a confident smile. "Don't worry my dear, Nalbina isn't much of a dungeon."

Penelo remains frozen, shaking her head; she fears for Reks. She wonders if Vayne is going to finish what he started in that place two years ago.

* * *

_Lowtown, Year 706 Old Valendian_

The Galbana Lilies manages to last the night and Rasler smiles fondly down at the plant before making his way home. He should go drop off the mark first but he wants to present Reks with the flowers while the petals are still fresh. It's such a stupid gift but he knows Reks will appreciate the gesture.

Rasler raises his brows when he finds Migelo's surrogate daughter, Penelo, crouched in front of his door; he wonders if she has some urgent business with Reks.

"Penelo, hi. Can I help you?" Rasler says, flower in one hand and the bag containing the monster's head in the other.

The girl looks up, and Rasler is taken back by her puffy eyes and red cheeks. "Raze, something happened last night." she sniffles out and his heart freezes. Penelo confirms his worst suspicion when she adds, "Reks got sent to Nalbina."

Rasler's throat tightens and he is locked into place. _Nalbina_… The place of Reks' nightmares, the prison where he was almost destroyed… Of all the dungeons…

"Why?" he gasps out when he finally manages to get his voice back. What could Reks have possibly done to garner such a sentence? They've been living with their head down for this specific reason!

Penelo shakes her head, biting her lips. "That's the thing, it makes no sense!" she cries out, indignation clear in her voice. "They say he went into the palace to steal something!"

"What would he even steal-" Rasler cuts himself off with a click of his teeth. Of course, what else would Reks be trying to steal from the consul than his brother?

Rasler crouches next to Penelo. "Don't worry," he says after a sigh. "I'll get him out… Somehow."

Penelo nods and rises with a shaky breath. Nerves somewhat soothed, she makes her way back to the city proper, though she is still devoid of her usual optimism.

Back inside his home, Rasler places the flowers in a cup before digging around for his large satchel. It'll take two days to ride to the entrance of the Barheim Passage and another couple more to navigate his way into the fortress. He needs to pack a lot of food for both the long travel and to give Reks once he gets them out.

Rasler presses his hand against his forehead, despair creeping up on him. "Damn it Reks… You'd better be safe."


	6. Chapter 3-The Etiäinen

Thank you for your reviews, and follows, as well as just coming by to read!

Chapter Summary: In Nalbina dungeon, Reks faces his past.

Chapter Warning: Vague mentions of Torture, violence, vague PTSD on Reks' part.

* * *

**A Single Grain: Chapter 3- The Etiäinen**

His mother has the best stories, tales she's collected during his parents' trade trips; she is an avid lover of mythology and Reks always believes that is part of why she married father.

His mother looks young here, her pale hair in a low ponytail; her skin is tanned from her travels, not sallow and pale like she was when the plague got to her. She reclines on the couch, feet tucked under her long, loose dress.

"I heard this tale from a villager in Tavasa," she says with a smile and Reks sits across from her, leaning forward to catch every word. He almost jumps in surprise as his father joins him, Vaan hanging from his thick arms. Vaan looks the same as he did 4 years ago, and Reks finally realizes he's in a dream, a memory.

It happens sometimes, when Reks gets too tired with his current life, but he hasn't had any for the last year or so. He wonders if he should wake himself up, but since he's here, he might as well listen to her story one last time.

With her audience all seated, his mother smoothes down her dress. "They say there are spirits called Etiäinen that share a face with another," she says, accommodating Vaan when he climbs up onto the seat next to her. "The Tavasi say the Gods fashioned this other as a way to keep people from wandering from their path."

She pets Vaan's downy hair, closing her eyes. "It's a way of warning them, a way of keeping humes in line…"

His home starts fading, their pastel colour walls bleaching into white, and Reks knows he'll wake up soon. He closes his eyes with a sigh, waiting for the inevitable awakening; he'd like to have heard the end of the story.

He hears his mother's voice whisper, "…Don't you see Reks? If you try to flee from your fate, they'll send an Etiäinen to replace you."

* * *

_Nalbina Dungeons, Year 706 Old Valendian_

"Fate means nothing," Reks rasps out as he blinks rapidly to adjust to the bright light. He groans as he feels a sharp pain on his head and gingerly reaches over to feel dried blood sticking to his hair.

"Finally awake, are you?"Balthier calls out from his seat. He's sitting on what appears to be a fallen pillar and Reks wonders if the whole place is in danger of collapsing.

"Where are we?" he asks, casting cure on his head. Luckily, the soldiers had released the magick draining cuffs once they put him here.

Balthier raises a brow. "Prison, where else?"

Reks groans. "I thought you said you didn't steal anything that'd land us in jail," he mutters, shaking some of the sand that had fallen on him.

The sky pirate tilts his lips, an almost disbelieving glint in his eyes. "I'm sure your attitude was part of what made Vayne throw us in here."

Reks remembers the night before, seeing Vayne Solidor again, his failed plan to meet Lady Galbana. "Oh, right…" he trails off, not knowing what to say. "Which one are we at? Socia? Mossburrow?"

Balthier furrows his brows, though his lips stay quirked. "My, my, aren't you informed?" the sky pirate says before shaking his head. "Fortunately, we're not even in a proper dungeon; they just shipped us to Nalbina."

Reks tenses at the name. "In what universe is Nalbina _not _a prison?" Reks hisses, clenching his fist to stop himself from shaking.

Balthier stands, taking a step towards him. "Are you alright? I ju-"

Reks stops him with a hand. He puts his other hand on the back on his neck, digging his nails into the skin. He needs to calm down; he's not even in isolation here. They don't even want to interrogate him. "It's fine," Reks says, taking deep breaths. "Where's Fran?"

Balthier crosses his arms. "She's off trying to find us a way out," he answers.

"Is that safe?" Reks asks, patting himself down. He had hoped they'd miss one but looks like the guards had taken all his weapons. "I mean, she doesn't even have any weapons."

The Archadian shrugs. "It'll be fine. She's stronger than she looks."

Reks nods. "I'm going to take a look around too," he says, making his way to the hall; there are no doors, just a rectangular opening. He's getting antsy just sitting here.

"Alright, but remember what curiosity killed," Balthier comments before lifting a small flask, half empty. "This is all the water we've got, so I'd save your strength if I were you."

Reks narrows his eyes at the pirate before putting his hand out. "Give me the flask," he more or less orders. Balthier raises his brows at the tone but tosses it over nonetheless. Reks shakes his head and mutters about sky pirates with zero survival skills as he uncorks the flask. The hunter casts the water spell, keeping the power level as low as possible. Pretty soon, the flask is filled and he passes it back to Balthier with an exasperated look.

"There you go," Reks says with a shake of his head. "I can't believe you were worrying about water when we have the water spell. I'd be more worried about food."

Balthier stares down at the flask, cool to the touch thanks to the fresh water that's been filled. "I've never quite envisioned using the spell like that," he replies flippantly.

"That's because you got no survival instincts," Reks mutters again, leaving Balthier behind in the tiny alcove.

* * *

Nalbina Dungeon is less of a prison, and more of a mellah for the political insurgents, petty thieves and general undesirables of the Archadian Empire. There aren't even guards here, just prisoners milling around with dead eyes. Reks feels a little calmer, now that he sees there are no torture for the prisoners. Here, out in the open, he'll be able to fight back.

Reks avoids the crowds, though most don't even bother to acknowledge him, too drained by the imprisonment. He meanders through the halls, trying to find any sort of exit. He knows that this dungeon is just the sealed off area of the former slums of Nalbina, back when it had been an actual city, instead of an Archadian outpost.

And if Reks gained any experience with Lowtown, it's that the slums always have extra exits set up, most not in the official blueprints. So with a sigh, he moves from wall to wall, giving the stone a light tap here and there.

Nothing… Not even a broken hole in the wall.

* * *

He wanders into the centre of the prison, where a high fence encircles a dirt patch, and Reks assumes that this is some sort of fighting ring. He wonders who would have the energy to actually fight here, when it looks as though no one gets fed at all.

As he is about to make his way back into the relative safety of the shadows, something comes flying from the upper levels and Reks manages to slip out of the way as a Bangaa crashes to the ground, a pained groan on his lips.

Reks crouches next to the wounded Bangaa and casts a cure spell on him; it's not the strongest spell but Reks doesn't want to waste all his magick at once. "You alright?" he asks.

The Bangaa breathes heavily, the magick not quite as effective due to the prisoner's malnourished body. "Save…Yourself," the Bangaa gurgles out just as Reks hears three pairs of legs land heavily behind him. The hunter whirls and faces them, raising his brows as he sees three heavy-set Seeqs grunting, each holding a club.

"What do you think you are doing?" Reks says lowly, narrowing his eyes to glare at them. The Seeqs jump back at the intensity of the glare only to snarl and make their way menacingly.

"Punish," the red Seeq says, snorting lowly.

Reks snorts, glaring down at the short creature with disgust. "This," he says, gesturing behind him. "Is nothing more than cruelty. Why are you doing this to a fellow prisoner?"

The lead Seeq laughs, his belly jiggling at the movement; the others join a moment later. "Don't lump us with you," he says with a hacking snort. It's sort of disgusting, the way the Seeq manages to talk and snort at the same time. "We are guards."

"We like fighting," another adds, tapping his club on the palm of his hand.

Reks sneers. "Please, you're just bullies that prey on the weak," he says, lifting his hands up in front of him. The Archadian Government is too xenophobic to hire Seeqs for guard positions, even in a place like Nalbina. From the corner of his eyes, Reks sees the Bangaa crawl away and he hopes the Bangaa knows someone that'll be able to help him.

One of the Seeqs starts to follow after the Bangaa but Reks stops him with a blast of fire from his fingertips.

"I'll fight you, since you like it so much," Reks says with a glare. Seeqs are weak to Fire, even more so than humes, as he learned from Bansat; something about the oil on their skin. The leader growls before swinging his club at Reks, who easily crouches out of the way, and sends another fire spell at the group.

Reks sticks to Fira and Fire while fighting the Seeq trio. They are bad and he wants to beat them up, but he isn't so cruel that he'd want the stupid things dead. The Seeqs have a lot of physical power but their speed is lacking, so it is relatively easy to dodge them then blast fire as he rolls away. Reks can see that they are only used to attacking those barely strong enough to stand, not someone who is both healthy and experienced in battle.

"Beat them up!" Someone shouts from above, and Reks notices with a start that they've attracted a crowd. The prisoners cheer as Reks lands another blow on the Seeqs; they seem to regain some vigour as they watch the fight.

"Fucking pigs," one Bangaa growls. "Can't do shit but beat up those who are too weak to fight back. Bastards."

"Beat them up good, white haired guy!"

The Seeqs get angrier as the crowd jeers, and the leader drinks a Bacchus' wine, giving him the Berserk status. Though, it doesn't mean very much when Reks' next attack sends the Seeq to unconsciousness. The other two fall easily without the leader to coordinate them, and pretty soon, Reks is glaring down at the trio on the floor.

Reks turns to leave, sliding past the cheering crowd. "I wouldn't kick them while they're down though," he comments. "That'll make you as bad as them."

"My, aren't you a noble one," Balthier says with a drawl, leaning against the wall as Reks makes his way over to him. "Thought you might need the help but looks like my worry was for naught."

Before Reks can reply, there is a creak of metal as the prison door rises, revealing a group of Imperials followed by a heavily pierced Green Bangaa. The imperials file down on either end of the staircase, and a higher ranking Imperial marches down with the Bangaa.

Balthier pulls Reks into the shadows, hiding behind a pillar. "They just don't give up, do they?" the sky pirate hisses as the Green Bangaa is joined by three other Bangaas, each with varying degrees of piercings.

"Friends of yours?" Reks asks with a raise of his brows.

Balthier opens his mouth to answer, only for Fran to slide in behind him, silent and graceful. "Oh, Fran," the Archadian says instead, greeting his Viera partner. "Found us a way out?"

Fran nods, tilting her head. "Yes. Through the Oubliette, there's a way out," she says, but then her expression shifts into discomfort. "Only…"

"You sense the mist," Balthier finishes with a sigh. "Then, we'll need our weapons."

"We would have needed them regardless," Fran says, tilting her head.

They are brought out of their conversation by the head Imperial slamming a gauntleted hand on the railing, creating a clanking noise. "What did you call me?" he growls at the Bangaa. "Say that again!"

"What? You couldn't hear?!" the green Bangaa replies. His voice is deep and raspy and Reks winces at the cacophony. "I said you lot are incompetent fools! If you the sky pirate in your hands, where is he?"

The Imperial laughs derisively. "You'd have done better Ba'Gamnan?" he asks with a snort. "By your own words, it was the Imperial army that caught that sky pirate of yours! We've done your job for you; without the assistance of filthy headhunters."

Reks raises a brow before turning to Balthier. "Not exactly bright is he, that Bangaa?" he comments. "Pissing off the man that could keep him locked up."

Fran shrugs. "You do not have to be intelligent to be a headhunter," she says. "Just ruthless."

Ba'Gamnan stalks up to the Imperial, nails tapping on the hilt of sword. "Maybe I'll whet my blade on you, before I kill Balthier."

The soldiers simultaneously grip their own weapons, ready to defend their captain when a sharp voice makes everyone freeze.

"That's enough Ba'Gamnan," the Judge commands as he steps down the stairs. Reks tenses, curling his fingers into a fist; it's always has to be _that_ judge… He's noticeable by his unique headgear, and his armour, tinted closer to gold than the others. That son of a bitch…

"A Judge," Fran spits out the words with a hiss.

Balthier sighs. "The self-proclaimed guardians of law and order in Archadia," the sky pirate says with a sigh. "The Elite Guards of House Solidor."

"Which makes them the Commanders of the Imperial Army, right?" Reks adds with narrowed eyes. "They're House Solidor's personal Dogs of War."

"If you ask me, they're more executioners than judges," Balthier mutters. "What are they doing here?"

Reks turns to the pirate, tilting his head. "You're Archadian right?" he asks, putting up a hand to silence any complaints Balthier may have. "Which one is that? What's his name?"

Balthier raises his brows, leaning closer into the shadows. "Why the interest?" he says, crossing his arms.

"He fucked me over enough times, I feel like I should know that name of the man I'm cursing," Reks replies, trying to make his voice as nonchalant as possible, though he fails miserably.

"Judge Gabranth," Balthier says at last, after several moments of tense silence. "I believe his name is Judge Gabranth."

"The Judge is leaving," Fran cuts in, shifting their focus to where Ba'Gamnan shakes with fury as the judge slides past him. "They are going towards the Oubliette."

Balthier nods. "Time for the hare to follow the fox," he says. "Shall we be off?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Reks asks with a furrow of his brows.

Fran's the one to explain, her red eyes glowing. "The magicks binding the doors to the Oubliette are quite strong," she answers. "Too strong even for my talents… Too strong even for yours."

"I see," Reks replies with a nod.

"So we'll get them to open it for us," Balthier adds with a sneer. "Why bother wasting our energies?"

Reks chuckles with a shake of his head. "Well, can't argue with that," he says before frowning. "But how will going deeper get us out?"

Balthier gives him a sharp look. "Viera noses are sharp," he says with confidence. "If she says there's a way out, there's a way out."

"You'd better be right about this," Reks mutters, following the Sky pirate's footsteps.

* * *

"Look," Fran says, as they pass a small alcove. "Our things."

"Oh, thank the gods," Reks says, pulling out his armour. "I just bought these."

They retake their things in silence. Reks slips on his armour efficiently, brought on by experience and slides his numerous daggers into its compartment with practiced ease. His main weapon, the longsword Deathbringer, hangs by his waist for easy reach. He also takes along a rapier that would be useful as a secondary weapon.

Once he is done equipping himself, Reks ties on his satchel of items, thankful that it managed to stay in together.

"Ready?" Reks asks once he is done, noting that Fran and Balthier seem to have nabbed some secondary weapons as well.

"Ready as I'll ever be," the sky pirate says with a wink while Fran nods solemnly.

"Alright," Reks says with a sigh. "I have a plan. Because just following behind them is a stupid plan because we're going to get caught for sure."

"What do you propose?" Fran asks, tilting her head.

"Fran and I will cast vanish on the three of us while we follow the Imperials," Reks says. "We're pretty quiet on our feet so all we need to do is to be invisible. They won't even notice the surge of magick because there'll be enough in the area thanks to the seal on the Oubliette doors."

Balthier nods with a tilt of his lips. "I was going to suggest we steal their uniforms but that's a much more viable plan," the Archadian says. "Let's go with that."

"But will we have enough magick?" she asks. "Vanish is a spell that doesn't last long."

"That's why you and I will take turns," Reks replies. "As long as Balthier is not the one casting, the spell should last long enough that the next person can cast it with time to spare."

Balthier gives them an affronted glare. "The Leading man doesn't need magick," he says with a huff.

Fran smirks at her partner, giving him a nudge. "That's why the Leading man will do nothing this time."

* * *

The Oubliette doors are right by the torture rooms, Reks realizes, and he fights to keep himself from trembling as they get closer and closer towards the heavy doors. He bites his lips to keep from breathing heavily, and he is glad that they are invisible, so neither Fran nor Balthier can see him in this state.

It shouldn't affect him this much. It's just a door, and Nalbina is just a building but Reks can't help the drying of his mouth, the sweat that seems to gather at his brows.

"…_You Dalmascans are used to the heat right? This fire should be no problem!"_

Balthier jolts him out of it. "You're breathing too loudly," he hisses. "Just hold on a little longer… That bastard's almost got the doors open."

The mage next to Judge Gabranth shakes with exertion as he wills the doors open, the vine-like wrappings around the doors lights up and curls away.

Reks almost says "I don't want to go in there," but he manages to bite his lips to keep quiet.

This is the only way to get out and Reks will not let some memory hold him back.

* * *

In the Oubliette, there is no other guards save for the ones they are tailing, so they let the Vanish spell end without renewing it.

Fran starts when she takes in Reks' appearance. "Are you alright?" she asks, noting his sallow complexion and darting eyes.

"I'm fine," he whispers back, herding them behind a pillar. Reks tilts his head slightly, keeping his eyes solely on the Judge.

Judge Gabranth pulls off his helmet, cracking his neck as he frees himself.

'Captain Basch!' Reks wants to scream when he sees the Judge's face. He knows that the Judge had stolen Captain Basch's face somehow when he assassinated the King under the guise but Reks has no idea why his face _still_ mimics Basch's two years later.

"You have grown thin, Basch," Judge Gabranth says to the prisoner, and Reks' eyes darts to the cage where the prisoner hangs.

'Captain Basch?!' Reks' eyes widens as he stares at the prisoner. That man shares Captain Basch's face as well.

_What foolishness is this?!_ Exodus booms out.

'If you don't know, how am I supposed to?' Reks growls back at the esper. 'Just stay quiet!'

It's insanity. Captain Basch is dead, and now these two make a mockery of it by using his face.

"Less than a shadow, less than a man," Judge Gabranth says blankly, glaring at the prisoner. It looks painful, being in that cage, and for a moment, Reks is glad that he had a cell to himself compared to this birdcage. The Judge's next words makes Reks narrow his eyes. "Sentenced to death, and yet, you live…Why?"

Sentenced to death…?

"To silence Ondore…How many times must I say it?" the prisoner rasps, and Reks covers his mouth to stifle his gasp because that man _is _Basch… He could be no other. Even after all this time, despite being raspy and weak, it is the voice of Captain Basch Fon Ronsenburg. That man without a doubt is the _real_ Captain Basch. Now that Reks looks closely, the prisoner has blue eyes like the Captain while the Judge has brown eyes.

"He still lives," Reks gasps out, stifling his smile. "He lives…"

Balthier raises his brows but stays silent, more interested in what is happening in front of him.

"Is that all?" Gabranth asks, narrowing his dark eyes.

Captain Basch sighs before glaring at his captor. "Why not ask Vayne himself?" he hisses. "Is he not one of your masters?"

Judge Gabranth growls, meeting Basch's eyes. "We've caught a Leader of the Insurgents. She's being brought in from Rabanastre," he says stiffly, changing topics abruptly. "A woman… Amalia. Who could that be?"

"She was a leader?" Balthier comments softly. "Well… no wonder it went so badly…"

Fran nods. "She is like a foxhound," she adds. "Only seeing what is in front of her and not of her surroundings… Unable to comprehend but for her immediate environment."

Reks puts his finger to his lips before focusing back on Captain Basch and the look-alike Judge.

"Such a faithful hound, to cling to a fallen kingdom," Gabranth says with a sneer, his eyes half-lidded, like a serpent moments before striking.

"Better than throwing it away," Captain Basch spits out, blue eyes alight with anger.

"Throwing it away…" The Judge echoes, and Reks notices a flash of pain before Judge Gabranth encases his face with the helm once more. "Just as you threw away our homeland?"

With a swish of his cape, Judge Gabranth slips away, followed by the mages. Reks remains behind the pillar for several minutes after the last footsteps have disappeared.

* * *

_Dalmascan Estersands, Year 706 Old Valendian_

Rasler releases the Chocobo with a wave and watches with a smile as the bird squawks a farewell before returning to the city. The pile of foodstuff and water flasks lays at his feet, much greater than he remembered; well, it is better to be over-prepared than under.

Rasler casts float on the whole pile and himself and smiles as the food trails behind him; thank the gods he had Reks teach him this.

Remembering Reks brings Rasler to a frown; he hopes his partner is not crushed by the Nalbina Dungeon.

'I can't think like that,' Rasler berates himself. 'Reks is stronger than that.'

Chaos is thankfully silent.

Barheim passage had been a transport system between the Estersands and Nalbina fortress, back when Airship transport hadn't been as widely used. After the advent of Airships, the passage had been blocked and locked, with keys given only to the Royalty of Nabradia and Dalmasca, to be used as an escape route should the need arise.

Rasler fishes out the key from his pants pocket, and hopes that it still works, that Archadia didn't change the locks.

The former prince laughs with triumph as the lock clicks and the door creaks open.

Opening the door had been half of the problem.

_How are you going to crawl up to the dungeon? _Chaos asks, ever wise.

"I'll think of something," Rasler answers out loud. "Do you think I can float myself up?"

There is a pause where Rasler thinks Chaos is actually thinking about the probability of it being viable but really, it is because Chaos is stunned by the prince's lack of magick understanding.

_Don't ask such an idiotic question again, princeling_.

* * *

The hairs on the back of his neck prickles as Rasler enters Terminus no.4 of the Barheim Passage. The circular area is open and he can't see any enemies but he can't shake the feeling of danger.

'Do you feel that?' Rasler asks his Esper, who is ancient and wise. His eyes dart across the open spaces only to find nothing. There's no place for it to hide and yet… 'There's something here.'

_It sleeps_. Chaos answers. _Move forward for now._

'Then I'll need to take care of it later!' Rasler argues. 'Where is it?'

_When you are returning, your attack power will be at least doubled_. Chaos rationalizes. _Worry about it then_.

Rasler wants to continue arguing but he knows that the esper is right. With a sigh, he prays that whatever monster it is stays sleeping when he passes by again with Reks in tow.

* * *

Basch Fon Ronsenburg knows despair. He has seen it when Landis crumbled before his eyes. He has heard it when the young soldier cried out in betrayal, when his beloved brother used their shared face to crush him. He has felt it with every glare Noah-no, Judge Gabranth- gave when he came to gloat at his cage.

But despite all this, all the crushing despair he's felt, Basch Fon Ronsenburg is also no stranger to hope. Hope he felt when he first arrived to Dalmasca, hope that he could save Landis. Hope he had when they ran to the king's aid. Hope he has with each visit Gabranth makes, Basch is somehow putting a dent in Archadia's schemes.

But no hope has he felt greater than when a face from his past comes into his vision. A face that aught not be near here, not here in Nalbina at all. The pale hair, grey eyes and the silent steps of a hunter.

And his voice- the voice of a friend, not the jeer of a guard, not the hiss of an embittered brother. "My, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" the mirage says. For that is what it must be, for did his brother not kill this innocent? The bystander between a brother's grudge?

_Reks! Is it truly you, Reks?_

* * *

**End Notes**

**Etiäinen: ** an image, doppelgänger or just an impression that goes ahead of a person

**Mellah:** Walled Jewish quarter in Morocco, analogous to European Ghettos.

Used in this story to describe a gated community, mostly brought together by force.

I didn't know how to end the chapter so you get that… I apologize for the weirdness….

Next time! The A+++++ Team get together! Rasler and Reks finally meet up, like holy cow!


End file.
